THE 

PRIVATE JOURNAL 

OF 

MADAME CAMPAN, 



THE / rf 



PRIVATE JOURNAL 






COMPRISING 



ORIGINAL ANECDOTES OF THE FRENCH COURT ; 



SELECTIOKS TROM HER 



CORRESPONDENCE, THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION^ 



EDITED BY M. MAIGNE. 



I'HILADELPHIA : 

rUBLISHED By ABRAHAM SMALL. 



1825. ^^ 



<> 



PREFACE. 



Having resided nearly five years at Mantes, oh 
terms of iatimate friendship with niadame Campan, 
and having been constantly with her during the pro- 
gress of her malady, I made a promise to several of 
her pupils, that I w-Md compose an account of her 
last moments, as I felt that the mournful relation, 
whilst it encouraged their sorrow, would be also 
in accordance with my own just and profound re* 
gret. 

I have been for a considerable time deterred 
from this undertaking, by the want of the requisite 
leisure. When I proceeded, at length, to arrange 
the notes I had collected, I found that they com- 
prised a multitude of anecdotes, that appeared 
curious, together with some interesting disclosures. 



VI PREFACE. 

Madame Campan had seen and heard an amazing 
variety of things. Her memory, powerful and ac- 
curate, suffered nothing to escape her during so long 
a period as from the end of the reign of Louis XV. 
to the time when she retired to Mantes, (1816.) 
From all this, her active and ready mind extracted 
wonderful resources ; she was capable of discoursing 
for hours without a moment's interruption to the in- 
terest of the conversation,— in which, amusing re- 
collections were mingled with the happiest flights of 
fancy. The addition of a remarkable order and 
clearness in her ideas, as well as a great deal of 
natural character in her expressions, rendered her 
society doubly charming, I can even declare that I 
should have found it impossible to avoid retaining 
any thing related by madame Campan. To write 
down, therefore, at the conclusion of the evening, 
what I had heard in the course of the day, was a 
matter of no difficulty whatever j and I felt happy 
in preserving, by my pen, the conversations of a 
woman so deservedly celebrated. 

From these Notes, carefully collected, the anec- 
dotical portion of the present work is formed. The 
reader will be aware that no methodical classification 



PREFACE. 



Vll 



could be given to detached thoughts, recollections 
suggested by the conversation of the moment, and 
reflections called forth by the events of the day. I 
have, consequently, given them just as I found them, 
scattered amongst my papers. Sometimes madame 
Campan herself is the speaker; at other times, her 
conversations are related by me. In order to mark 
the distinction in these two cases, inverted commas 
are employed in the passages containing her own 
words. 

The only part of this small work, susceptible of a 
somewhat regular form, is that in which madame 
Campan's illness commences. Omitting such mat- 
ters as would have no interest but for members of 
the faculty, I have noted down, day by day, those 
instances of discourse, when, even in the midst of 
her sufferings, she excited our astonishment by her 
courage. Her resignation afforded an edifying lesson 
of piety, and threw a kind of charm over her last 
moments ; while the sallies of her imagination were 
intermingled with joyous or with touching remi- 
niscences of the past. 

The inedited Letters will give proof that she, who 



via PREFACE. 

has succeeded so well in her Memoirs, and in her 
Essay on Education, possessed equal ability to have 
distinguished herself in the epistolary style. Those 
which she wrote to her Son, exhibit, in an especial 
degree, the frankness,^ the natural felicity, and the 
charm of manner with which she was wont to unbo= 
som herself in her Correspondence 



JOURNAL, &c. 



About the end of December, 1815, I saw ma- 
ilame Campan for the first time. She then resided 
in Paris, in the Rue Saint Lazare. 

The misfortunes with which she and her family 
were just then visited, rendered her longer residence 
in the French capital so unpleasant, that she resolv- 
ed to retire into the country. Though this determi- 
nation accorded with her slender fortune, yet she 
was unwilling to withdraw herself too far from the 
centre of public affairs. She wished still to be within 
the sphere of the political events of the day ; and she 
was also anxious that her family and numerous 
friends might be enabled to visit her with facility. 
She, therefore, made choice of the little town of 
Mantes. Madame Maigne, whom she had educa- 
ted, who had acted as her secretary at Ecouen, and 
to whom she was tenderly attached, had resided at 
Mantes for the space of three years ; a circumstance 
which materially influenced madame Campan in giv- 
ing the preference to that town, and I was sincerely 
glad of it. About the beginning of April, 1816, she 
came to fix her abode among us. 

From that period to the time when she was snatch- 
ed from us, I enjoyed the happiness of seeing her 
B 



6 JOURNAL. 

twice every day, and I always took leave of her with 
increased regret; such was the delight which her 
charming and varied conversation afforded me. 
Madame la Marechale de Beauvan observed, that 
no one knew better how to kill time than madame 
Cam pan. 

On her arrival at Mantes, she was so unwell that 
she was scarcely able to eat ; for whenever she took 
her meals, she was seized with a tingling and buz- 
zing in her ears. This sensation, which deprived 
her of all power of thinking or acting, sometimes 
lasted for several hours. Madame Campan called 
it her nightmare. " It is my enemy," said she, " it 
" will kill me, for it will be seconded by apoplexy." 

These attacks were renewed four or five times 
every month ; and when they took place in the night, 
they left a deep impression on her mind, and her 
ideas took a melancholy turn. She would then be 
angry with herself, and try to recover her former 
cheerfulness, which she said had fled like a bird 
from its cage. 

" Certainly," said she, '« the main springs of my 
" life are either worn out or rusty ; there is some- 
" thing extraordinary in my present condition. My 
*^« mental afflictions must have produced a severe 
" shock on my physical faculties. I am perplexed 
" when I endeavour to form conjectures respecting 
'' my health. I leave the matter to you. 

*' In my present condition I scarcely know myself. 
*< My spirits are depressed ; my mind wanders ; and 
*< my resolution flags before I can attain the object 
«' I have in view. I cannot account for this. It 
^' would require a world of explanation to enable me 



JOURNAL. 7 

* to understand it. The doctors, who have cures 
^^ for every thing, even for disorders of which they 
'-^ are wholly ignorant, make a great display of skill, 
** and hold out hope by which they succeed in divert- 
^* ing me a little ; but they can do no more, and they 
*^ are as much puzzled as I am. Poor human na- 
*' ture ! If we knew our destiny, how much more 
" wretched we should be than we really are." 



The state of madame Campan's health, and the 
turn of her reflections, naturally led her to relate to 
us the following anecdote : — 

" At the time when Mesmer made so much noise 
" in Paris with his magnetism, M. Campan, my hus- 
" band, was his partizan, like almost every person who 
*^ moved in high life. To be magnetised was then a 
" fashion ; nay, it was more, it was absolutely a rage, 
" In the drawing-rooms nothing was talked of but 
" the brilliant discovery. There was to be no more 
" dying ; people's heads were turned, and their ima- 
" ginations heated in the highest degree. To accom- 
" plish this object it was necessary to bewilder the 
" understanding; and Mesmer, with his singular 
" language, produced that eflect. To put a stop to 
'' the fit of public insanity was the grand difficulty ; 
"and it was proposed to have the secret purchased 
*< by the court. Mesmer fixed his claims at a very 
" extravagant rate. However, he was offered fifty 
" thousand crowns. By a singular chance, I was 
" one day led into the midst of the somnambulists. 
" Such was the enthusiasm of the numerous specta« 
" tors, that in most of them I could observe a wild 
" roiling of the eye, and a convulsed movement of 



8 JOURNAL. 

* the countenance. A stranger might have fancied 
' himself amidst the unfortunate patients of Charen- 
' ton. Surprised and shocked at seeing so many 
' people almost in a state of delirium, I withdrew, 

* full of reflections on the scene which I had just 
' witnessed. It happened that about this time my 

* husband was attacked with a pulmonary disorder, 
' and he desired that he might be conveyed to Mes- 

* mer's house. Being introduced into the apartment 
' occupied by M. Campan, I asked the worker of 
' miracles what treatment he proposed to adopt ; he 
' very coolly replied, that to ensure a speedy and 
' perfect cure, it would be necessary to lay, in the 
' bed of the invalid, at his left side, one of three 

* things, namely, a young woman of brown complex- 
« ion, a black hen, or an empty bottle. ' Sir,' said I, 
' * if the choice be a matter of indifference, pray try 
« the empty bottle.' 

*' JVI. Campan's side grew worse 5 he experienced 

* a difficulty of breathing, and a pain in his chest. 
' All the magnetic remedies that .were employed 
' produced no effect. Perceiving his failure, Mes- 
« mer took advantage of the periods of my absence 

* to bleed and blister the patient. I was not inform- 
' ed of what had been done until after M. Campan's 
< recovery, Mesmer was asked for a certificate, to 
' prove that t'he patient had been cured by means of 
' magnetism only, and he gave it. Here was a trait of 

* enthusiasm ! Truth was no longer respected. When 
' I next presented myself to the Queen, their Ma- 

* jesties asked what I thought of Mesmer's disco- 
' very. I informed them of what had taken place, 

* earnestly expressing my indignation at the conduct 



JOURNAL. 9 

*' of the barefaced quack. It was immediately deter- 
*^ mined to have nothing more to do with him."* 

Daring the consulate, Napoleon, one day after 
dinner, stood leaning against the drawing-room 
xhimney-piece, in a very meditative attitude. A 
lady, one of his relatives, observing him, said : — . 
" You look like a conspirator,'* " True," he replied, 
" I am now conspiring against the monarchs of Eu- 
rope. Time will show that a shrug of the shoulders 
is sufficient to overthrow a bad political system." 



A lady asked madame Campan during her resi- 
dence at Mantes, to recommend her to a good con- 
fessor. * Madame Campan mentioned her own, who, 
she observed, was a man of intelligence and respect- 
ability. '^ But, madame," inquired the lady, " is he 
a reasonable man ?" — " Oh ! very much so," said 
madame Campan, " he was one of the " court abbes." 
-— ^^ Then he is just the man to suit me," said the 
lady. 



At the time when Napoleon was commander-ino 
chief of the army of Italy, his sisters and youngar 
brother, together with the children of Josephine, 
were at school at St. Germain. During the summer 
they occasionally paid a visit to Paris, accompanied 
by Madame Voisin. One evening, to finish their 
holiday, they proposed going to the theatre, and be- 

• The following anecdotes, or reflections, are, as has already been 
mentioned, put together without any regard to order. It WQuld^ indeed, 
have been impossible to preserve any regular arrangement, 
B 2 



10 JOURNAL. 

ing shott of money, they were obliged to mount luto 
the gallery. 



Madame Campan, while she was at Mantes, fre- 
quently dwelt on the extraordinary occurrences 
brought about by chance : — " I was," said she, «' the 
" instructress of a nest of kings and queens, without 
" ever dreaming of such a thing ; and, indeed, it 
*^ was very fortunate for all parties that we did not 
" know it. Their education was the same as that of 
" my other pupils. There was no distinction ob- 
" served among them. When they quitted me, they 
" were all possessed of an excellent stock of informa- 
" tion, with the exception of one only, who, though 
"gifted with a fine understanding, never evinced a 
" willingness to learn. Had these young women 
" been educated as queens, they would have been 
"flattered instead of instructed. Being ignorant of 
" their future destiny, they received the accompiish- 
" ments of women of distinction, added to the more 
" solid acquirements requisite to form good mis- 
" tresses of families, which, indeed, should be the 
"grand object of female education." 



The reputation of madame Campan's establish- 
ment spread beyond Europe ; and she obtained fxu- 
pils even from Calcutta. While she was at the head 
of the great establishment which she managed with 
such success, her pupils, who were mostly the daugh- 
ters ^wealthy individuals, annually got up 2^ fete in 
honour of their governess. They allotted one day 
in the year to the pleasure of testifying their affec- 
tion for madame Campan, whom they all regarded 



JOURNAL. 11 

as a second mother, for the sentiments with which 
she inspired them, and as an excellent friend to 
guide them in the path of duty« 

The young ladies formed a subscription among 
themselves, for the purpose of presenting to their 
governess a feeble mark of their attachment. The 
sum subscribed amounted to between 1,000 and 
1,200 francs. On the day appointed for the purchase 
of the present, madame Campan sent for the curate 
of Saint Germain, and in the presence of her pupils, 
addressed him as follows : — " Sir, I am full of gra- 
" titude for the kind intentions of my pupils. The 
"feelings by which they are animated, are so good 
" and pure, that I conceive it to be my duty to apply 
"the sum which they have collected to an obji;ct 
" equally praiseworthy. I therefore request. Sir, 
" that (with the consent of my pupils) you will dis- 
" pose of the sum they have collected in apprenticing 
" a female orphan of this town. Let the girl's con- 
" nexions be poor, but respectable, and I should 
*< wish the surplus of the money to be paid into the 
" poor box.'* This act of benevolence was renewed 
every year, while the establishment of Saint Ger- 
main existed. " The mistresses of the Paris boarding 
"schools," said madame Campan, «* shewed a wifih 
"to imitate me in many points 5 but they never at- 
" tempted to copy me in this." She frequently made 
the following observation ; — " My pupils were my 
" daughters, so long as they remained with me> and 
" my friends, when they returned to their homes.'* 



" At the period when the priests were again per- 
" mitted to say mass during the revolution, the 



12 JOURN'AL, 

" churches were found to have been stripped of every 
'' thing. I provided some fine lawn for the church 
*' of Saint Germain. At the time of the confirma- 
" tion, I directed those of my pupils who were most 
" abundantly supplied with money, to purchase a 
" sufficient quantity of lawn, cambric, lace, &c. to 
" make surplices and albes. After the religious ce- 
" remony, they were left for the use of the church ; 
** and Saint Germain's was, at that period of my 
" glory, one of the richest churches in France." 



In a conversation which madame Carapan had 
with Napoleon, he said :— " It is not the poor, but 
the rich, who require to be looked after in a stare. 
It is the higher ranks who demand attention. If 
they were not reined in, they would pull down the 
sovereign in no time. I hold them with a firm hand, 
and keep them at a due distance, for they are full of 
ambition. They are pleasant companions, but they 
have keen appetites. The poor must be protected, 
or they would be devoured. The higher orders have 
every advantage in society. Their rank and wealth 
protect them but too well. The power of the throne 
is in the lower ranks, and all the dangers that threaten 
it proceed from the great." 

(The reader will be pleaged to recollect, that the paragraphs distin- 
guished by inverted commas at the commencement of each line, are to 
be ufiderstnod as containiDg the express words of madame Campan.) 

"- In 1801, M. Dubreuil, a physician, and ma- 
" dame i'Hopital, both inhabitants of Saint Ger- 
'*main, were arrested and conveyed to the Temple ; 
" the former for having felt the pulse of M. Talon's 
" child, and the latter for having been visited by M. 



JOURNAL. 13 

♦^ Dubreail. Though the last-mentioned individual 
" lived perfectly retired, his presence nevertheless 
'• gave umbrage to the government. The police, 
*' artful as it then was, could not find an excuse for 
" putting him under arrest ; but as the principal could 
>* not be got at, the accessaries were taken in his 
^' stead. 

" M. Dubreuil, on being conducted to prison, 
*' wrote to me, requesting that I would exert my in- 
" fluence in his behalf. He could not, he said, guess 
*' the cause of such a proceeding. I was much in- 
« terested for M. Dubreuil, who was my physician, 
" and my friend ; and I was the more astonished at 
" his arrest, as I well knew his quiet inoffensive ha- 
" bits and opinions. I immediately repaired to the 
<'Tuileries. As soon as the First Consul beheld 
" me he said, 'You have come to intercede for the 
" inhabitants of Saint Germain. Your madame de 
*' THopital is an intriguer.' ' I beg pardon, general, 
" she might once perhaps have been reproached for a 
" little levity; but surely that must be all over at the 
«' age of seventy-eight. An intriguer she cannot be ; 
" a little coquetry would perhaps be more to her 
" taste, but she is blind. She receives company 
" every evening, and through the fear of being 
" thought impolite, she makes her courtsey even to 
'* the absent. 

'< When Napoleon was informed of the real cir- 
" cumstances he grew angry, and said, in the pre- 
" sence of Josephine : < a blind woman, seventy-eight 
"years old, is always innocent of political offences. 
*' The minister has committed an act of cruelty, un- 
" worthy of my government. Had Fouche been 



14 * JOURNAL. 

" plotting with my enemies, he could not have done 
"better. He must be mad. I cannot permit such 
" proceedings to take place under the sanction of my 
" authority. It is my wish, that every act emanating 
" from my power should be such as reason will ap- 
*' prove. A government should be actuated by ex- 
** alted views and generous sentiments. The arbi- 
" trary act that has just been committed, is worthy 
" only of a sovereign's mistress, in a fit of passion, 
" Matters must not go on in this way. The head 
" of the State should never be biased by passion. 
" History will record every thing, and what will be 
" said of such conduct as this ? But what has the 
" doctor done V « Why, general, he attended M. 
" de Talon's child, and he has, for many years past, 
<* daily visited his fellow prisoner in the Temple. 
*' ' This business is almost incredible,' resumed Na- 
'' poleon. ' A doctor may surely prescribe for my 
" enemies as well as for my friends, without giving 
" offence to the ministry. Medical professors are 
" not, like the holders of government places, required 
" to embrace a particular set of opinions. 

'< Abuses like this degrade and compromit my 
" authority. I must have some conversation with 
«' the minister, and the prisoners shall be liberated.' 
*' He rang the bell with violence, and sent for Fouche, 
" who, if I may use. a vulgar expression, received a 
" hearty dressing. However, the prisoners were* not 
*' set at liberty until thirty hours after this conver- 
«' sation ; such was the tardiness with which the mi- 
" nister went through the formalities necessary for 
«' procuring their release. One of Josephine's car^ 
«* ria^es was sent to convey them from the Temple ; 



JOURNAL. 15 

" on hearing whuh, madame de THopital exclaimed: 
" are these madame Buonaparte's beauiitul white 
" horses ? It matters very little, madam, whether 
*< they be white or black, said M. Debreuil, peevish- 
" ly, so as they draw us out of prison." 



" Ministers, when offended,'' said madame Cam- 
pan, ** are like pretty women ; they do not easily for- 
*^ give. Their self-love is very susceptible. Their 
<« places are given to them only that they may dis- 
«* charge their functions reasonably and discreetly ; 
*< but unfortunately, they cannot shake off vulgar 
" weaknesses." 



During the hundred days, Napoleon observed, 
that nobility, inflated as it is with pride and ambi- 
tion, is not a very manageable commodity. "In 
1 806," said he, " the Emperor Alexander thought me 
too happy in having none. The nobility was a trou- 
ble of my own creating. I should have made a no- 
bleman of every individual paying fifty francs of 
taxes. This would have levelled a blow at the very 
roots of the old nobility, and the new nobles would 
have been less arrogant. My plans did not answer 
the ends I had in view. I wished for splendour, and 
I got nothing but vexation, through the avarice and 
ambition of those whom I elevated.'' 

" The counts of his making," added madame Cam- 
pan, " were worth the counting ;^ they were the work 
" of a master hand." 

* Puns are not translateable, and it is therefore proper to give the 
original, which is: — Les comtes de safagon, ne se croyaient pas de 
contes pour rire, Ufaut convenir quHls sont diifait d^un gra7idhomme> 



16 JOURNAL. 

" Napoleon observed, that if he coald fairly fight 
public opinion, he should not fear it. But as it could 
not be beat down by his artillery, he found himself 
obliged to conciliate it by justice and equity, two 
powers by which it is always to be won. To pursue 
any other course, is to endanger wealth and distinc- 
tion. It is impossible to imprison public opinion j 
restraint serves only to irritate it." <' Public opinion," 
added madame Campan, ^' may be compared to an 
** eel ; the tighter one holds it, the sooner it escapes." 

Napoleon likewise said : — " Revolutions are bro't 
about only by injustice. Where would be the motive 
for them, if governments were guided solely by the 
laws of equity ? All revolutions, past and to come, 
must be attributed to injustice, and I defy the most 
artful politician to assign any other cause for them. 
In the object of the French revolution there was no- 
thing to condemn ; all the mischief consisted in the 
excesses committed by misguided men. It is neces- 
sary to bear in mind these two facts, lest we should 
confound justice on the one hand, and iniquity on the 
other. What ! must a man trace back his pedigree 
for fourteen centuries, before he can be deemed 
worthy of respect ? Before the revolution, it was ne- 
cessary to be a nobleman to hold a commission in the 
army ; and to be connected with a great family to 
obtain a bishopric. The revolution was brought 
about by the nobility and the high clergy. That's a 
fact of which I am thoroughly convinced." 

Ambition, and other bad passions, are not to be 
corrected by experience. The present soon plunges 
the past into oblivion. 



JOURNAL. t7 

Madame Campan often told me, she had heard 
from Napoleon, that when he founded the convent of 
the Sisters of la Charite, he was urgently solicited to 
permit perpetual vows. He, however, refused to do 
so, on the ground that tastes may change, and that 
he did not see the necessity of excluding from the 
world women who might some time or other return 
to it, and become useful members of society. <' Nun- 
neries,'' he added, *< assail the very roots of popula- 
tion. It is impossible to calculate the loss which a 
nation sustains in having ten thousand women shut 
up in cloisters. War does but little mischief; for 
the number of males is at least one twenty-fifth 
greater than that of females. Women may, if they 
please, be allowed to make perpetual vows at fifty 
years of age ; for then their task is fulfilled." 

" During the directory, the government had order- 
" ed my chapel to be closed ; and some time after 
" commissioners were sent to desire that the reading 
" of the Scriptures should be suppressed in my school. 
" I inquired what books were to be substituted in 
<' their stead. After some minutes conversation, 
" they observed : Citizeness, you are arguing after 
" the old fashion ; no reflections. The nation com- 
« mands ; we must have obedience, and no reason- 
** ing." 

On the 19th of March, 1S15, a number of papers 
were left in the King's closet. Napoleon ordered 
them to be examined, and among them was found the 
letter written by madame Gampan to l.ouis XVIII., 
immediately after the first restoration. In this letter 
she enumerated the contents of the port-folio which 
Louis XVI. had placed under her care. When Na- 
C 



18 JOURNAL. 

poleon read this letter, he said : «< Let it be sent to 
the office of Foreign AflTairs, it is an historical docu- 
ment." 



" Formerly people used to run after parchments j 
" because, through them they knew they could obtain 
" any thing. Now they run after money ; for they 
«' find that a more certain means of getting at what 
" they want. Chimeras are vanishing, and things 
'« are appreciated according to their real value." 



In a private conversation with Napoleon respect- 
ing the establishment of Ecouen, madame Campan 
suggested the necessity of having firemen, " Your 
vigilance must suffice to prevent accidents," replied 
Napoleon. « Yes, sire, in ordinary cases, certainly ; 
but can I avert the fire of heayen?" "You are 
right," said he, and three firemen were immediately 
appointed for the establishment. He saw at once the 
truth of the observation. The hint was sufficient. 
He had not thought of the circumstance himself; but 
with him justice prevailed over self-love. 

Napoleon conversing one day with madame Cam- 
pan, at the Tuileries, said : " I acknowledge no other 
titles than those which belong to personal merit ; they 
who do not possess such distinctions are truly unfor- 
tunate. The men by whom 1 am surrounded have 
won their titles on the field of honour. They have 
given sufficient proofs of their merit ; true nobility 
is in their mind, and no where else. I have espous- 
ed no party. Merit determines my choice. I am 
the patron of talent." 



* JOURNAL, 19 

Having visited Malmaison, during the consulate, 
madanie Campan was led to the following reflections: 
<< What singular chance has brought me from the 
" Tuileries to this abode of pomp and splendour ? 
*' But on looking around me, I perceive a duke of 
*^ the old stock, M. de L=^**=^**, who seems to be 
«' much more out of place than myself. I came in 
" fulfilment of my duties as governess to the younger 
" branches of the family ; but surely this duke has 
*' no business here ! I could not help remarking," 
added madame Campan, " that your people of qua- 
" lity are made for slavery. Their backs are so flex* 
<' ible that they are never so happy as when they are 
" bowing." 



Madame Campan often told me that she had made 
the fortune of M. d'Aubier, who, at a certain period,, 
proved himself grateful. 



She informed me that madame Murat one day said 
to her : " I am astonished that you are not more 
awed in our presence ; you speak to us with as much 
familiarity as when we were your pupils !'' " The 
" best thing yo J^ can do," replied madame Campan, 
" is to forget your titles, when you are with me ; for 
'« I can never be afraid of queens whom I have held 
" under the rod." 



Talma and his brother-in-law dined with madame 
Campan, on their return from Rouen, in 1821. SJie 
was delighted at the idea of seeing and conversing 
with so distinguished a man as Talma. Her coun- 
tenance beamed with joy ; and the pleasure she an=" 



20 JOURNAL. 

ticipated seemed in some measure to compensate the 
privations to which political circumstances subjected 
her. *< I still retain," said she, " a taste for the truly 
" beautiful. In spite of all my misfortunes, my spi- 
'* rits will be revived and refreshed to-day. I re- 
" quire to be roused, now and then, from the dejec- 
" tion into which events have plunged me. The 
" most heroic courage would be incapable of bearing 
" up against the shocks which I have undergone. 
" But during dinner I shall involuntarily forget all 
*' my calamities, so much do I love talent, and all 
'< that is connected with it. I will banish from my 
" memory the injustice of man, and the causes which 
*^ have produced it. It is generous to forgive, and I 
" feel that I possess that virtue ; but yet one cannot 
*' remove the scar, nor avoid feeling an occasional 
<* pang. These things are said to depend on elec- 
*^ tricity, set in motion by unascertainable causes. 
" There is no accounting for v,-hat may break the 
" heart ; and even if it were possible to do so, the 
" result would not be the less fatal." 

During dinner, madame Campan turned the con- 
versation on the art of elocution ; and Talma made 
some remarks on the subject, whicll rivetted the at- 
tention of all present. *' Good delivery," said he, 
"is applicable to every class of composition. This 
art notwithstanding the powerful effects it produces, 
is but too much neglected in France. It is indeed 
quite in its infancy with us. It forms no part of 
education, and is never thought of in our academies* 
Yet it presents so many advantages, that I cannot 
conceive how it should be lost sight of. What effect 
can even a clever speaker produce, without good de- 



JOURNAI^. 21 

livery. He merely fatigues his hearers. I could 
name several men of high merit in the legislature, 
who are intolerable, on account of their delivery ; 
and similar examples may be found in the pulpit, 
and at the bar. The sermons and speeches of some 
of our most celebrated preachers and advocates have 
occasionally dissatisfied me, owing to a want of just 
harmony, between their mental and physical powers » 
When the mind of the speaker was deeply impressed 
with the truths he was expounding, he would betray 
no external signs of conviction ; no change would be 
observable in his features, nor would his voice soften 
into the accents of persuasion. In Paris, party spi- 
rit establishes the fame of public speakers ; but peo- 
ple of judgment form their opinions differently from 
the loungers of the drawing-room. 

" The difficulties which the actor has to surmount, 
are greater than those which present themselves to 
the public orator. The latter has to express only 
his own ideas ; when he speaks in public, it is al- 
ways in his own character. But the actor is obliged 
to model his mind, and even his body, according to 
the received notion of the character and manner of 
the individual he has to represent. 

" How else would it be possible to pourtray ve- 
hement passions, enormous vices, and exalted vir- 
tues, or to devclope the distinctive traits belonging 
to different characters. The actor is obliged, as it 
were, to seize the spirit of the individual he has to 
represent, in order that he may produce a living 
personification of one of whom no other trace remains 
on earth, save a few lines recorded by the pen of 
C 2 



'J.'2 JOURNAL. - 

histoiy. This task, I may truly say, demands vast 
perseverance and study, 

"Any dissonance between the thought, the look^ 
and the gesture, destroys the illusion and defeats all 
chance of success. The countenance should be a 
mirror, reflecting distinctly all that passes in the 
mind ; the voice, that powerful medium for the com- 
munication of impressions, should be clear, flexible 
and sonorous ; capable of expressing every feeling 
of the heart. The movements of the body should 
follow the same impulse j and the spectator should 
recognise, in the harmony of the representation, the 
perfect identity of the individual personified." 

After dinner the company, withdrew for a short 
time, to the drawing-room, and Talma soon set out 
for Paris. When he had taken his leave, madame 
Campan : said " What vast labour it must cost to 
" to reach the high degree of perfection which Talma 
" has attained ! I admire his talent ; I am enraptured 
" with it. In him art has been employed only to 
*' perfect nature. What exquisite taste and justness 
" of perception he evinces. The contemplation of 
*' such an actor on the stage, affords a useful lesson ; 
"it is a spectacle which must inevitably tend to ele- 
*'vate and enlarge the mind. Nature is sparing of 
«' such extraordinary actors ; the eighteenth century 
*^ gave birth to Le Kain ; the nineteenth has hitherto 
" produced none but Talma." 



I was informed by madame Campan, that a female 
relative of the Empress Josephine received a letter 
from an uncle, residing at a distance from Paris, so- 
liciting a place for one of his relations, with the re« 



JOURNAL. 23 

mark that one was bound in honour and in affection 
to remember 07»^V family, Madame Campan ob- 
served, that Napoleon's heart was too full of family- 
affection. He wished his relations to share the good 
fortune which he himself possessed; and this great 
ambition for his family gave umbrage to Europe, 
Had he been an only son, his affairs would probably 
have taken a different turn. 



In 1814, when Massena was presented at court, or 
when he went to take leave of the King, on depart- 
ing for his command at Marseilles, the great per- 
sonages by whom his Majesty was surrounded, 
cleared but very narrow space for him to pass 
through. He had no sooner delivered a few words^ 
than he found himself without the circle. Massena 
was continually alluding to the clever way in which 
they cut him off, and separated him from the King; 
•'When I was on the field if battle," said he, '*I did not 
employ so much dexterit in making my prisoners." 
" Courtiers," observed madame Campan, « have a 
"paramount interest in rendering the person of the 
"sovereign inaccessible, so that every favour may 
"fall upon themselves. They are a class of men who 
" very well understand their own interests. 

" I have been accused," said madame Campan^ 
" of having bedaubed myself with dirt in my inter- 
" course with the Buonaparte family ; but indivi- 
*' duals who had greater reason to be fastidious — for 
"example, the Emperors of Austria and Russia 
*' scrupled not to do the same. I say nothing of 
" nearly the whole of the old noblese, who thought 
-' themselves highly honoured in being permitted to 



-t JOURNAL. 

'( pay their court at the Tuileries, la 1810, who 
" could have foreseen the fall of 1814 T' 



About the period of madame Marat's marriage, 
and while she was yet at Saint-Germain, Napoleon 
observed to madame Campan : " I do not like those 
love matches, between young people whose brains 
are excited by the flames of the imagination. I had 
other views for my sister. Who knows what high 
alliance I might have procured for her ; she is 
thoughtless, and does not form a just notion of my 
situation. The time will come, when, perhaps, sove- 
reigns might dispute for her hand. She is about to 
marry a brave man ; but in my situation that is not 
enough. Fate should be left to fulfil her decrees." 



A gentleman informed madame Campan, that one 
of her pupils, who, when at school, was remarkable 

for beauty and intelligence, had not turned out well. 
Madame Campan was filled with amazement. " I 
assure you,'' added her informant, " you would be 
shocked ; you could not endure to look at her." — 
*•' Good Heavens, sir, what has happened f" — " Why, 
madam, she has grown frightfully ugly !" — " Thank 
*' God it is nothing worse I how could you alarm me 
*' so V 

When relating this anecdote, she added, in a lively 
tone : '* I never announced, in my prospectus, that 
" my plan of education would defend beauty against 
'•' the ravages of age.'^ 



During a journey which madame Campan made to 
Brie, in 1818, her health improved astonishingly, and 



JOURNAL. 25 

she wrote to me as follows : " I now take my meals 
"•' like any one else. Judge how my spirits are re- 
«' vived by this fortunate change ! How powerfully 
*' does privation excite desire ! How heartrly I rer 
" lished the first piece of bread I was able to eat ; for 
" I had not tasted any for three years before. My 
" mind feels the influence of my improved bodily 
" health. I seem to have entered upon a new txis- 
" tence ; I breathe freely j in short, you would 
" scarcely know me. This troublesome org^n, the 
" stomach, certainly acts an important part iu our 
" svstem. Since mine has been roused from its tor- 
" por, every thing goes on well. I have recovered 
" the functions of existence just in time. I felt the 
" edifice tottering ; but it has received a prop, and 
" hope will fortiiy it completely. I now forgive you 
" for the long journeys which you prescribe to your 
" patients. Send ihcm all to the mineral springs. 
" A jaunt of thirty leagues, and the influence oJ new 
« circumstances, physical and moral, have been my 
" remedies. The experiment has proved successfuU'^ 



On her return home, after an absence of two months 
madam Campan was overjoyed at having recovered 
her health, the treasure which she most dearly priz- 
ed. " Men run after fortune," she often said j " but 
" they should rather run after health, or the means 
" of preserving it. Without health all becomes in- 
" different j even the affections of the heart. The 
" passions die of themselves ; ambition vanishes j 
« and man left to himself alone, sinks concentrated 
<' in his own weakness. He can do nothing for 
*< others j nor others do any thing for him. It is the 



26 JOURNAL. 

« that he may form a notion of his real condition. 
*^ Every thing escapes him, even the means of self- 
** preservation, and all tends to sink into annihilation. 
«< The apprehensive mind looks forward only to un- 
" certainty ; the illusions of imagination disappear ; 
<' and reason stops short before the impenetrable bar- 
<< rier of futurity. The ideas dictated by men, and 
<* supported by brilliant fancy, eloquent language, 
<* and powerful reasoning, lose their value. The 
" mind is like a frail bark on the troubled sea, which 
*' is tossed about at the mercy of the winds, and may 
'« be drifted one knows not whither. But we must 
" submit ; it is the law of necessity, and even philo- 
<' sophy knows no other." 



Madame Campan resumed her natural gaiety, and 
she enjoyed the delight of pouring forth the feelings 
of her heart on the bosom of friendship. To com- 
municate to those about her, all that passed in her 
mind, was to her more than a pleasure j it was an ab- 
solute Eecessity, « I should be wretched," said she, 
<* if I were obliged to be reserved. My mind is es- 
<i sentially communicative. When I am compelled 
<* to lock up my desk, I am always annoyed, though 
^* I try not to appear so." 



After dinner, madame Campan used to assemble 
around her a little party of friends. This she found an 
agreeable recreation ; for time occasionally seemed 
to linger with her. a A country life is not all 
*' pleasure," said she, « one can breathe freely here, 
" to be sure ; .one can walk in the garden, or in 
" fine weather repair to IMagnanville, or the Corde= 



journat:,. 27 

" liers ;* and on returning home, one's appetite is 
" good, and one's dinner ready. All this is very 
" agreeable. The physical health is admirable ; but 
" the mind is not so well provided for. There is a 
" want of mental aliment. One cannot be always 
** reading and writing; something else is requisite: 
" the news of the day, and the visits of people 
« who mix in the world. The want of these two 
" things occasions the great vacuity. By way of 
" compensation, or for the gratification of eager and 
" boundless curiosity, some people collect the news 
"of the neighbourhood. This is bad taste; and in 
*' the end, the heart gets corrupted in the school of 
** gossiping." 



Madame Campan continued to enjoy tolerably 
good health, from 1818 to 1821. During that in- 
terval she completed the arrangement of her affairs, 
and lived in competency on her remaining income, 
an annuity of about 12,000 francs. But just as she 
was beginning to enjoy her retirement, a new mis- 
fortune assailed her. She lost her son Henry. In 
the beginning of January, 1821, he visited Paris, for 
the purpose of seeing his family, and making himself 
acquainted with the novelties in science and the arts, 
for which he had a great taste. 

A few days after his arrival in Paris, M. Campan 
was seized with a catarrh. The disorder at first 
appeared under the most favourable symptoms ; but 
in the space of four or five days, so serious a change 
took place that no hopes were entertained for his re- 

• Promenades in the neighbourhood of Mante«. 



28 JOURNAL. 

covery. He wrote to his mother only two days be- 
fore his death. When madarae Campan was made 
acquainted with the loss she had sustained, the shock 
was the more severe, because she had scarcely been 
aware of her son's illness. His unexpected death, 
joined to the distress she felt at not having been with 
him in his last moments, produced such an effect on 
her that her health thenceforward visibly declined. 
Her life became an uninterrupted interval of pain ; 
her appetite was irregular, and her sleep was dis- 
turbed by dreams of her lost son. She saw him 
every where. If left to herself but for a moment, his 
beloved image was constantly before her. " True 
** sorrow" said she, <* finds consolation in beholding 
« the portraits of those who have been dear to us. I 
" doubt the sincerity of grief, when the resemblance 
'' of a beloved object is banished from the sight. In 
'' this world, mourning is a duty : time does not fly 
" so swiftly as to exempt us from the fulfilment of 
*'it." 



Soon after this misfortune, madame Campan wrote 
to one of her friends, as follows : — << you knew the 
"amiable son whose loss I deplore. Alas! our ha- 
<« bits seem to be the result of a kind of mechanism, 
" acting involuntarily. Henry was often absent from 
" me ; and sometimes I fancy he is still in Paris. 
" But the illusion vanishes, and I exclaim : No, he 
" is not absent, but lost ! lost for ever ! Then, again, 
" I think I shall soon rejoin him." 

Such a remarkable change was observable in ma- 
dame Campan's health, about three months after the 
death of her son, that I found the only means of 



JOURNAL. 29 

rousing her from her depression of spirits, and her 
indifference to all that was passing around her, was 
to advise her to travel. To this she consented, but, 
at the same time, said : — " Amusement and change 
" of scene cannot revive a system which has received 
" a mortal wound. My heart beats only to keep up 
" my affliction, and to fill me with a distaste of life. 
" In my son I have lost every thing. I seem to 
" breathe only from the effect of habit. Nothing in 
" this world can afford me pleasure. The charm of 
«* existence has fled from me like a dream. Every 
" object around me is enveloped in a gloomy veil. 
"« Courage may endure any thing, when the mind 
" only is afflicted ; but it cannot bear up against the 
" sufferings of the heart. May heaven preserve you, 
'^ my friend, from the misery which oppresses me. 
" You see merely the surface of my sorrow. God 
" alone knows its full depth. To express what I feel 
" is impossible. There is, after all, something plea- 
" sureable in my sensations. I cherish my grief, and 
" the idea of death has even a certain charm. To 
" rejoin my son is my only wish." 

One morning, about a fortnight before her depar- 
ture, madame Campan observed, that an indurated 
gland which ehe had in her left breast had become 
harder and more painful than usual. The idea of a 
carreer immediately came across her mind, and she 
began to be continually harassed with the picture 
she had formed of that terrible disease. The appre- 
hension of no other disorder would have produced 
any impression on her. All the usual remedies were 
instantly applied; but they had not the eflfect of di- 
minishing the svmptoms of the disorder, which, how- 
D 



^^ JOURNAL. 

ever, made no further progress. It had been pre- 
viously arranged, that madame Campan should travel 
into Switzerland, and it was now determined that 
she should try the mineral baths of Baden. At the 
period fixed for her departure, the weather proved 
unfavourable, and she went to pass three weeks at 
Draveil, with madame Lambert, her niece. 

The pleasure which, in spite of her dejection of 
mind, madame Campan enjoyed in course of this 
journey, and during her visit to one of her illustrious 
pupils; the change of air and different mode of liv- 
ing, all tended to encourage a hope that, by a rigid 
observance of the prescribed treatment, the disorder 
might be checked in its progress, if it could not be 
abated. But all our hopes were disappointed. On 
her return to France, in October, she again visited 
Draveil and passed six weeks there. Her medical 
attendant advised her to submit to an operation, 
which he assured her would effect her cure. Ma- 
dame Campan cheerfully embraced the suggestion. 
A consultation was held, and the doctors being una- 
nimous in their opinions, the operation was determined 
on. Madame Campan had derived considerable bene- 
fit from her journey. She had recovered some portion 
of her cheerfulness. She wished to live -for the sake 
of her family,, of which she was now the natural 
head, and she had justly acquired a right to be so. 
She looked to her relations, and to madame Voisin, 
for motives to induce her to cherish existence. This 
favourable change in madame Campan's health took 
place while she was visiting the Duchess de Saint- 
Leu, at Constance. 

Madame Campan looked forward with impatience 



JOURNAL. 31 

to the moment, when, to use her own expression, 
the troublesome stone was to be removed from her 
garden. 

It was determined that the operation should take 
place at the beginning of December. On the day 
preceding that fixed for its performance madame 
Campan said to me : — " I regret that I have not 
*' completely revised my Memoirs. It is my parti- 
" cular wish that they should be printed immediately 
" after my death. They contain a justification of 
" the conduct I have pursued, and which has been 
" so greatly calumniated. I shall prove, by undeni- 
" able facts, how unjustly I have been treated. I 
" can also prove that, while worthless men consulted 
" only the dictates of their corrupt hearts, I devoted 
" myself wholly to the interests of the august vic- 
" tims of 1793. They abandoned their sovereign to 
" a lawless and irritated party ; while they ought all 
" to have sacrificed themselves to save their king. 
'< They can never wash away the stain that is upon 
" them. 

" I have related, in my Memoirs, only that which 
" I myself observed. 1 never trusted to the versions 
<* of news-mongers. The only witnesses I consulted 
" were my own eyes; and they were too v/ell expe- 
" rienced to aflord me any reason to doubt their 
'< fidelity. My narrative is simple and unvarnished. 
" 1 he Memoirs will develope the plain truth. They 
"are intended to furnish materials for history, and 
*' the slightest shade may deceive the historian. I 
" have fulfilled my task with all possible candour. 
*' If I had written about the government, I should 
*' have expressed my opinions with sincerity, I have 



32 JOURNAL. 

" considered myself perfectly neutral in relating the 
" facts recorded in my Memoirs. I should have 
"wished once more to revise my treatise on. the 
^' Education of Young Females ; for that work I 
" consider to be the source of any little reputation 
" which I may hereafter enjoy. I think it may be 
" a useful assistant to mothers. In the course of my 
*' long experience, I have collected a certain stock 
« of information, which I will endeavour to render 
" profitable, if God should be pleased to grant me 
*' time. 

" But a truce with reflections, my dear doctor ; 
t' the hour of battle has arrived. I feel that I am 
*' in possession of all my strength of mind. I shall 
" see what fortitude will enable me to bear ; and 
"whether the pain I am about to suffer will be 
" greater than my resolution. My courage enabled 
(f me to remain at the Tuileries on the 10th of Au- 
"gust. Neither the cries of distress, nor the sight 
" of blood terrified me. I prescved all my courage, 
" and I could even have given useful advice in the 
*' moment of danger. Come, no more delay ; all is 
'• ready. I am tired of speaking of this affair, as if 
" it were an event of history." 



February 4th. — During the operation, Madame 
Campan's countenance became pale ; but its expres- 
sion never altered ; her eye uniformly retained its 
calmness. JNl. Heymes, a colonel of artillery, one 
of the heroes of the old army, assisted the surgeon, 
M. Voisin. The colonel confessed, that during the 
most sanguinary battles, in which he had been en- 
gaged, he had never experienced any thing equal to 



JOURNAL. 33 

what he felt during the performance of the operation. 
Madame Campan evinced some signs of pain ; but 
she uttered no complaint. The placidity of her mind 
never forsook her on this trying occasion. 



10th, — I need say nothing of Madame Campan's 
health, from the time the operation was performed, 
until the 4th of March, the period when the catarrhal 
affection appeared. I shall merely relate the con- 
versations which I had with her every morning 
during my visits, which were frequently prolonged 
for a considerable time. On the sixth day after the 
operation, when she was able to talk without pain, 
she said to me : — « I still, my dear doctor, possess 
' a little remnant of existence ; and I feel happy in 

* being able to live without bearing about me a token 
' of remembrance, that 1 am about to quit the busy 
' world. The consciousness of approaching disso- 
' lution renders one melancholy, and the remaining 

« span of life becomes an uninterrupted interval of 
' pain. With a little exertion of reason, our minds 
' are soon made up. Since Nature has ordained that 
' we shall resign the place we occupy, to make room 
' for another, it is proper that she should dispose of 
'our lives, independently of our agency. We do 
» not give ourselves life ; it is merely granted to us 
'for our use, and every imprudence by which wc 

* endanger it, is more or less criminal. The sacri- 

* fice of pain is soon over. It is an expenditure of 

* feeling which we must resolve to perform ; it is 
' indeed a duty. This has always been my view of 
' the case. My conduct has never been influenced 
' by any other rule." 



34 JOURNAL. 

«' After the 18th fructidor, I found that my only 
*' means of subsistence was to turn my talent to some 
*' account. I opened a school at Saint-Germain. 
" The establishment succeeded beyond my hopes. 
" I had undertaken every thing on an extended scale, 
*' and engaged the best masters from Paris. Such 
" was my success, that I may truly say, this was the 
*< happiest period of my life. 

" During this prosperous interval, about the year 

'< 1801, when I was superintending the education of 

"the sisters and daughter-in-law of the First Con- 

" sul, a person called on me, and requested that I 

«' would grant him a private interview, as he had 

" some secret business to communicate. I answered, 

" that I would very readily hear what he had to say, 

" if he had come to me on family business ; or, I 

"added, if he had come to solicit my protection, I 

" would do all I could for him, as I knew no greater 

''happiness than that of rendering service to persons 

*' who were deserving of it. He then said, that he 

"had business of the highest importance to commu- 

" nicate to me. In that case, sir, said I, keep your 

*' secret to yourself, for if it should relate to politics, 

** I assure you, I shall make the government ac- 

" quainted with it. JNly visitor then took his leave, 

** and 1 never saw him again. I have always con- 

«' eluded that he was an envoy from abroad, and 

*' that, as i had declined receiving the communica- 

♦< tions he had to make to me, those who sent him 

" never forgave the offence. 

<* The important services which I rendered to the 
♦' King and Queen, did not apparently obliterate the 
= f recollection of my threat to the stranger. I men- 



JOURNAL. 35 

"tion this, only as a probability. To this circum* 
"stance I likewise attribute all the vexations I have 
" experienced of late years, from the emigrants. 
" The inveterate spirit that has been manifested, 
*< must have had some cause of excitement. But I 
" have forgotten all these things. 1 hey recur to 
" my mind only like historical incidents. 

<' I have always made it a rule, to avoid taking 
" any part in government affairs, or court secrets; 
"for, by meddling in such matters, one receives no- 
" thing but contempt, if not something worse. A 
" woman who is desirous of maintaining respecta- 
" bility, should direct her attention to her own pri- 
" vate affairs, and confine her political conversation 
"to a few intimate friends. This has always been 
" my rule. To pursue a different course, is only for 
"those who are thrown upon a forlorn hope." 



11th. — Next day, madame Campan related to me 
the following particulars: — <♦ A few days after the 
<' battle of Paris, the Emperor Alexander came to* 
<« visit Ecouen, and he did me the honour to break- 
<* fast with me. After shewing him over the esta- 
"blishment, I conducted him to the park, the most 
"elevated point of which overlooked the plain of 
<• Saint-Denis. Sire, said I, from this point 1 saw 
" the battle of Paris. If^ replied the Emperor, that 
" battle had lasted two hours longer, we should not 
« have had a single cartridge at our disposal. We 
« feared that we had been betrayed ; for on arriving 
"so precipitately before Paris, all our plans were 
"laid, and we did not expect the firm rcsisiance we 
"experienced. I next conducted the Emperor to 



36 JOURNAt. 

" the chapel, and shewed him the seats occupied by 

" le coiinetahle (the constable) of Montmorency, and 
" la connetable (the constable's lady,) when they 
** went to hear mass. Barbarians like us, observed 
" the Emperor, would say la connitable and le cotic- 
^^ table, 

"The Emperor inquired into the most minute 
" particulars respecting the establishment of Ecouen, 
" and I felt great pleasure in answering his ques- 
" tif^s. I recollect having dwell on several points 
« which appeared to me to be very important, and 
" which were in their spirit hostile to aristocratical 
« principles. For example, I informed his Majesty 
" that the daughters of distinguished and wealthy 
" individuals, and those of the humble and obscure, 
" were indiscriminately confounded together in the 
"establishment. If, said I, I were to observe the 
^' least pretention on account of the rank cr for- 
" tune of parents, I should immediately put an end 
" to it. The most perfect equality is preserved ; 
" distinction is awarded only to merit and industry. 
*« The pupils are obliged to cut out and make all 
*« their own clothes. They are taught to clean and 
" mend lace ; and two at a time, they by turns, three 
" times a week, cook and distribute victuals to the 
<' poor of the village. The young females who have 
" been brought up at Ecouen, or in my boarding- 
" school at Saint-Germain, are thoroughly acquaint- 
<' ed with every thing relating to household busi- 
" ness, and they are grateful to me for having made 
" that a part of their education. In my conversa- 
" tions with them, I have always taught them that on 
<' domestic management depends the preservation or 



JOURNAL. 37 

<* dissipation of their fortunes. I impress on their 
*< minds the necessity of regulating with attention 
*' the most trifling daily expenses ; but at the same 
" time I recommend them to avoid making domestic 
'' details the subject of conversation in the drawing- 
*< room ; for that is a most decided mark of ill breed- 
•' ing. It is proper that all should know how to do 
^' and to direct ; but it is only for ill-educated wo- 
« men, to talk about their carriages, servants, wash- 
*' ing and cooking. 

'< These are the reasons, sire, why my pupils are 
" generally superior to those brought up in other es- 
*' tablishments. All is conducted on the most sim- 
" pie plan ; the young ladies are taught every thing 
*< of which they can possibly stand in need ; and 
" they are consequently as much at their ease in the 
" brilliant circles of fashion, as in the most humble 
" condition of life. Fortune confers rank, but edu- 
" cation teaches how to support it properly. 

<' The monarch seemed to be interested in this 
« conversation. He observed many points of resem- 
« blance between the Maison d'Ecouen, and the es- 
*< tablishment which his mother had founded at St. 
" Petersburgh : but this was not surprising, for both 
" institutions had been planned on the model of St. 
" Cyr. 

" The post-master of Ecouen was in the court- 
" yard at the moment when the Emperor, as he 
" stepped into his carriage, told me he would send 
*« some sweetmeats for the pupils. I immediately 
" communicated to them the intelligence, which was 
"joyfully received ; but the sweetmeats were looked 
« for in vain. When Alexander set out for England, 



58 JOURNAL. 

" he changed horses at Ecouen, and the post-master 
" said to him : 'Sire, the pupils of Ecouen are still 
*' expecting the sweetmeats which your Majesty 
<< promised them.' To which the Emperor replied, 
"'that he had directed Saken to send them.' The 
^' Cossacks had most likely devoured the sweetmeats, 
" and the poor little girls, who had been so highly 
<« flattered by the promise, never tasted them." 



12th — " Prince Talleyrand, in a remarkable speech 
•"• which he delivered in the Chamber of Deputies, in 
"1821, expressed, in a single phrase, the whole spirit of 
"policy. «I know,' said he, ' where there is more wis- 
" dom than in Napoleon, or Voltaire, or in any minis- 
« ter, present or future; it is in public opinion.' I was 
<f struck with the justice of these few words. They 
« told more than a whole treatise on the subject. 
*< What is the resting point of policy ? Public opinion. 
*« Has it any other basis ? Surely reason admits of 
<« no other. What should we think of the minister 
f* who follows any other guide ? Silence may be 
« commanded, it is true ; but events will run coun- 
« ter to that command. Public opinion cannot be 
<^ contraled. It must be followed, for it is al- 
<« ways advancing. The brilliant light of the torch 
" may be dimmed, but it camot be extinguished. It 
** is not to be found in the sneers of court ladies, nor 
« in the breviary of the Jesuits. Observe the con- 
«duct of a selfish politician : he seeks every oppor- 
'< tunity to consult the favour of those in power. He 
<< is satisfied if he can give proofs of his devotedness; 
*« no matter on what conditions." 



JOURNAL. 39 

14th. — While madame Campan was at the head 
of the establishment at Ecouen, some of the ladies, 
appointed to superintend the different classes, com- 
plained of certain regulations to which they were 
subjected. Madame Campan said to them : " Per- 
" mit roe, ladies, to inform you, that this establish- 
** ment was not founded either for the superinten- 
" dant who is at the head of it, or for the ladies en- 
** gaged to assist her. It was instituted solely for 
«' the pupils ; for if there were no pupils here, you 
" and I would be useless." 

" It is the same with subjects," said madame Cam- 
pan, addressing herself to me, " if they did not exist, 
" kings would be as useless on their thrones as I 
** should have been at Ecouen, if there had been no 
" pupils there. Authority is merely a consequence ; 
*' it emanates from the people, and cannot exist with- 
" out them. When a king treats his subjects ill, he 
" abuses the power which they have confided in him. 
" Let a sovereign go to England, and he becomes a 
" private man ; he loses his authority in the eyes of 
" the English : but on his return to his own domi- 
" nions, the nation invests him with the supremacy. 
" That which is the mere gift of men, is declared by 
'' bigots and parasites to be descended from heaven, 
*' But knowledge is now so diffestd, that the empire 
*' of fanaticism must end. By the help of reason, 
" every one knows his duty." 



" I have been asked, by many persons, whether 
" I have not been engaged in writing Memoirs on 
" Napoleon and his Court. My answer has been, 
•< that this task is reserved for those v/ho lived in 



40 JOURNAL, 

^' his household, or who had frequent access to him, 
** that I had undertaken to describe the private life 
" of Marie Antoinette, and that I should du no more. 
*' I never made a single memorandum relative to the 
^< splendid and martial court, which Napoleon held 
" at the Tuileries." 

In the course of conversation with me, raadame 
Campan also made the following remarks : — " Na- 
" poleon's genius elevated him ; but his temper 
«« proved his ruin. A restless, ambitious, reserved 
<« and hasty temper, united with imperial power, was 
'' naturally calculated to give offence te those who 
"approached him. Human vanity is a delicate 
*« string, which should be touched with the greatest 
" caution. Napoleon conceived that his vast power 
"exempted him from the forms which engage the 
<( love of subjects, and call forth sentiments of at- 
*f tachment. He seemed to think that he was suffi- 
"cient to himself, and the many imperfections which 
« he observed in mankind, rendered him somewhat 
" misanthropic. This disposition caused him to feel 
« the ingratitude of many persons, because he mor- 
" tified their vanity ; and the vanity of the great, 
" when it is once wounded, never forgives. He 
*«knew how to govern his subjects, and Europe ; 
« but he could never govern himself : so true it is, 
" that all great men have a weak point. He was 
*< brave, generous, and magnanimous, and prized 
'^ glory beyond all things; but unfortunately, he 
"could never conquer his passions. His luminous 
" understanding had no influence on his temper. His 
" genius gained him admirers ; but his neglect of 
" forms made him entmies. His admirers were far 



JOURNxiL, 41 

*''from his person, and his enen^ies were about him. 
« A lady of the Innperial Court remarked, that Na- 
** poleon was a piece of patch-work, made up of parts 
<* of a great and a common man. He wished that 
<< women should attend to their family affairs, and 
« not interfere with politics. The influence of the 
^' mistresses of Louis XV. alarmed him. He thought 
" women might be commanded like an army. He 
*^ little knew their restless, insinuating, inquisitive 
" and persevering spirit, and the direct influence they 
'* exercise over their husbands. He did not seem to 
" understand women ; they never relinquish their 
" privileges." 

16th.— As madame Campan was returning from 
Switzerland, she paid a visit to a duchess, who had 
been educated at Saint Germain, and who addressed 
the following remarks to her : <* I never enjoyed so 
much happiness as since I have returned to my coun- 
try residence. I have forgotten my title since I have 
retired hither, and 1 have not been the same creature 
that I was before. My head was full of chimerical 
fancies. The title of baron begins to disorder the 
mind ; that of count produces a certain degree of im- 
becility ; and a dukedom absolutely turns the brain. 
I know not what effect higher distinctions produce; 
but I suppose they complete the moral derangement. 
This progression is exact, and the result positive. 
All whom I have known to possess titles have expe- 
rienced the same fate as myself. I pity them if they 
have not had courage to resume possession of their 
reason." 

*' These observations," said madame Campan, 
•■' shewed a justness of thinking, which pleased me 
E 



42 JOURNAL. 

" exceedingly. There appeared to me to be more 
" philosophy in these few words, than I have met 
" with in the arguments of most of the men who pro- 
** fess themselves to be the disciples of Socrates. 
" What is there in a title ? It serves only to feed 
<*and inflate human vanity. This system of distinc- 
" tion,. which is the original sin of politics ; — this 
*' food of vanity, so disgusting to the understanding, 
"gives rise to pretensions of superiority over men 
« who do not possess titles, or who only possess them 
" in a lower degree. Can any thing be more absurd 
« and ridiculous, than to suppose that the nick-names 
<« of baron, count, &c. afford grounds for assuming 
" advantages over other men ? This is madness, 
"pure madness. On this subject, Mirabeau said: 
«* ' two things are necessary to make a citizen a noble- 
" man ; first, that he should declare himself to be so, 
" and next, that those to whom he makes the decla- 
'* ration, should be willing to believe him. Were it 
" not for these two conditions, nobility would have 
"no existence.' In the time of the Constituent As- 
" sembly, this very just observation of Mirabeau's 
"was repeated throughout Paris." 



Madame Campan dined at the Tuileries in com- 
pany with the Pope's nuncio, at the period when the 
Concordat was in agitation. During dinner, the 
First Consul astonished her, by the able manner in 
which he conversed on the subject under discussion. 
She said, he argued so logically that his talent quite 
amazed her. 



17th. — " I formerly," said madamc Campan, « en- 



jOUPwNAL. 43 

' joyed a high degree of court favour. When I was 
' in child-bed, previously to the birth of my poor 
' Henry, four couriers were waiting at my house in 
' Paris, to convey intelligence of my delivery to 

* Versailles. One was sent by Louis XVI., one by 
' the Queen, one by monsieur, now Louis XVI IL, 

< and one by the Princesses. Things have changed 
^< since then : such is the course of human afTairs. I 

' knew real happiness only at Saint-Germain ; and I 
' have enjoyed tranquillity only since I have lived at 

< Mantes. 

« I have frequently heard the attendants of priuce- 
'ly personages cry out to the people, hats o£ 1 
'This is a piece of folly. These marks of courtesy 
' should be inspired, not exacted. Confidence is 
' not purchased, it is given ; and in like manner, re- 
' spect should be given and not commanded. When 
' people are happy, they do spontaneously that, 
' which under other circumstances authority must 
"compel. An experienced eye can judge with ra- 

* pidity, it never takes a mistaken view of public 

* opinion." 



<« Good company operates, as it were, both by at- 
•' traction and affinity," said madame Campan ; " woe 
< to him who forsakes it : for he is out of his place 
' every where else, even in bad company." 



18th. — " So long as reason is looked upon as se- 
^ dition, you will have among you the seeds of revo- 
' lution ; for reason can be regarded in this light 
« only by a party who wish to reign without it. People 
^ cannot, now-a-days> live without the help of rea- 



44 JOURNAL. 

*' son ; and if her empire be not restored, discussions 
'.' will be constantly arising, and they may lead to 
*< greater lengths than are expected. Fables are no 
'' longer in fashion. Words can no longer be sub- 
*« stituted for things. The cloak of hypocrisy can 
*' no longer be employed to cover vice : the spirit of 
" the age has stripped it off. This is very unfortu- 
" nate for antiquated prejudices ; but they n^ust 
" yield to circumstances. Errors which the progress 
<* of information has banished for ever, cannot be 
<« forced back upon the human mind at the point of 
" the bayonet. Ambitious pretensions have now to 
" contend with insurmountable obstacles ; they may 
" yet do much mischief, but they must ultimately 
<< yield. Those who support them afe combating 
** against reason and truth, and they know it. They 
** colour their sophisms with a pretended wish for 
" peace and tranquillity. The air of benevolence 
<« which they assume is merely pretended. Therr 
« hearts are the prey of ambition. They condemn 
*« as revolutionary every thing which opposes their 
«' views. The force of things presents the obstacle 
** of which they complain. I am not to blame be- 
** cause events have enlightened my mind; the events 
« must be blamed for that. But why were these 
*< events suffered to take place ? Because they could 
<* not be prevented. Neither is it possible to pre- 
«< vent the progress of reason. The men who would 
<< attempt to oppose it, have yet to begin their edu- 
<^' cation ; and in order to acquire a good one, they 
" should imitate the stock-jobbers, and follow the 
" general impulse. If they contend against the 
« stream, their ruin is certain. Obstinate people are 



JOURNAL. 45 

*^ there looked upon as mad ; and proofs of their 
" madness are soon acquired. Matters are speedily 
<« settled there. It is a longer process in politics 
" but the result is the same." 



Madame Campan related to me a fact so extraor- 
dinary, that I cannot refrain from recording it here. 
The Marchioness de Forges, whose husband was 
grand falconer, resided at Versailles, in the year 177B. 
The Marchioness was pregnant and .during child- 
birth some unpleasant intelligence was communicated 
to her. If I recollect rightly, she was informed that 
one of her houses had been burnt down. The pains 
of child-birth immediately ceased, and the Marchio- 
ness continued pregnant for the space of twenty-five 
years. At the expiration of that period she died ; 
and on her body being opened, the child was found 
petrified. A few years previous to her death, the 
Marquess de Crequi said to her, ia a drawing-room : 
*' Madam I think you would do well to swallow a 
tutor for your son ; his beard must be ber^inning to 
grow by this time." 

19th.— .The abbeB*** one day told madame Cam- 
pan that, during his residence in Italy, he frequently 
saw in the public streets monks of various orders, 
mounted on chairs or planks of wood, preaching, or 
holding conferences. When these conferences took 
place in the churches, a Christ, as large as a child, 
whose head was made to move by means of a spring, 
was supported by one of the chorister boys, conceal- 
ed within the pulpit. During these conferences, the 
priests addressed the Christ, and inquired whether 
E 2 



46 JOURNAL. 

he would permit or forgive such or such things ; and 
by help of the spring, which was moved by the boy, 
the Christ bowed in token of assent, or shook his 
head by way of disapproval, just as the priest thought 
proper to determine. • 

« When M. B^*^ told us this, I said ; never re- 
*' peat such a story again. I cannot conceive that 
<« the clergy would tolerate things of a nature cal- 
*' culated to turn into ridicule the most holy of all 
** religions. ' These facts,' replied the abbe, ' are 
<* well known to travellers. At Naples they make 
" St. Januarius weep. I only relate what I saw. 

" The abbe B*** was a roan of distinguished cha- 
*< racter, and of great piety. The above conversation 
" was brought about by some remarks relative to the 
" conferences of the abbe Frayssinous, which made 
** a great noise at that time. Government did not at 
*' first perceive the powerful impression which the 
« talent of the preacher produced on the public mind. 
" He rendered important services to our sovereign." 

20th. — " On the day after the publication of the 
*' ordinance for the expulsion of the Jesuits, M. Cam- 
«' pan, my father-in-law, met Dr. Quesnay in the 
<* grand gallery of Versailles, and saia to him : ' Well, 
«< what think you of the Jesuits !' Hush ! my friend,' 
^' answered M. Quesnay, ' we must not raise the cry 
'' of victory yet. Three days must elapse before a 
<' dead man be considered as really dead ; these 
*< wicked rogues may come to life again.' Forty 
'* years afterwards the miracle dreaded by the doctor 
« was fulfilled." 



<* M. D***, who had been an attorney, and who 



JOURNAL. 47 

" professed ultra principles, was an intimate ac- 
«' quaintance of M. M***, a liberal. One day as 
<t they were dining together, the conversation turned 
" on politics, and each warmly supported his opin- 
" ion. M. M''^** said to his friend, since I cannot 
<< convince you by the force of reason and facts, and 
" since you persist in maintaining that past times 
" were preferable to the present, I will assume my 
" title of count which has descended to me from the 
" year 1400, and when you come to visit me, I will 
" order a cover to be laid for you in the kitchen, 
" We shall then both be in our right places ; for, 
" according to your system, I compromise my dig- 
« nity by sitting at the same table with you. I shall 
" be Monsieur le Comte^ having the honour to ride 
" in the King's carriages, and you will be Monsieur 
« le Procureur^ with humble countenatice, back bent, 
" and hat in hand. You shall not enter my drawing- 
" room till after you have have performed the cere- 
" mony of attendance in the anti-chamber ; and you 
" shall not seat yourself in my presence. Let us 
" come to a right understanding on this point. It 
" is generosity and pure attachment to principle, 
*t that induce me to divest myself of one of "he high- 
« est gratifications of pride and vanity ; for all men 
" have their share of both. I make the sacrifice 
*' which reason dictates to me as a duty. Who is 
" the better for it ? You and all the plebeian class. 
«« But if you persist in adhering to your principles, 
'* you must explain your grounds for maintaining 
<« them. Mine are already known. J am a loser, 
" and you are a gainer. You are certainly influenc- 
« ed by some after thought," 



48 JOURNAL. 

Napoleon used to say, that sobrietv and continence 
were indispensible qualities in a military man. Ma- 
dame Campan quoted this observation, and added a 
remark made by her nephew, Marshal Ney, when 
in Spain, to another Marshal, who had a mistress : 
*' Such an aide-de-camp as you now possess, will cost 
your armv ten thousand men." 



21st. — " The ultras would have attached them- 
*' selves to the liberals, if the latter had gained the 
« ascendency ; because they would still have been 
" counted for something ; hut the liberals, by con- 
<' necting themselves with the ultras, would only 
" have strengthened them, without gaining the least 
*« advantage in return." 



A lady connecred with the establishment of Saint- 
Dennis, told madame Campan that Napoleon visited 
it during the hundred davs, and that the pupils were 
so delighted to see him, that they crowded round 
him, endeavouring to touch his clothes, and evinced 
the most extra\agant demonstrations of joy. The 
matron endeavoured to silence them but Napoleon 
said. — ^' Let them alone, let them alone. This may 
weaken the head, but it strengthens the heart." 



One dav, during the Consulate, madame Campan 
dined at IVIalmaison, and after the coffee had been 
handed round, several members of public bodies ga- 
thered about Napoleon, and tried to prevail on him 
to distrust the Jacobins, as being a ver^* dangerous 
set of men. After hearing what they had to say, 
he replied : — '•' It appears to me, that you do not 



JOUKNAL„ 4b^ 

rightly know what a Jacobin is. He is nnerely an 
ambitious fellow, in search of a place. I shall, there- 
fore, give places to the Jacobins and make them hold 
their tongues. 

*^ Do you know," said madame Campan to me, 
" what the Ultras of the present day consist of ? I 
<• will tell you. They are a set of men who are re- 
" solved on procuring places, cost what they will, 
" They care not what sacrifices they incur to obtain 
« their ends. They are determined, at all risks, to 
<f play their part in state affairs. To obtain a place 
*( during the republic, it was necessary that a man's 
" previous conduct should be the pledge of his princi- 
*' pies. The ultra system requires pledges; but Napo- 
*' leon looked only to merit. He extinguished parties* 
ff There was no ground on which fools could evince 
<< dissatisfaction 9 and they were tired of raising par- 
" ty cries." 

22d. — " M, Brunier, the court physician, was call- 
" ed to attend madame B***, at Versailles. That 
<' distinguished lady was then far adavnced in life, 
" and in a bad state of health. After considering 
" her case, the doctor jokingly said ; « What can I do 
<< madam ? when the oil is exhausted, the lamp must 
" die out,' < A physician,' replied the lady, * should 
<' at least have sufficient sense and humanity ; to 
« speak less plainly 1 do not want proverbs, but mere- 
" ly consolation if there be no other remedy.' 

" This same M, Brunier was physician to the chil- 
« dren of the royal family j and during his visits to 
<« the palace, if the death of any of his patients hap- 
*< pened to be alluded to, he never failed to say * 
« — * Ah ! there I lost one of my best friends. 



50 JOURNAL. 

" Well,' said the Queen, < if he loses all his patients^ 
<« who are his friends ; what will become of those 
" who are not his friends ?' " 



" A petition was drawn up, and addressed to the 
" Queen, by the people of a corporation in the neigh- 
<« bourhood of Paris, in which they prayed for the 
*' destruction of the game which destroyed their 
« farming crops. I was myself the bearer of this pe- 
" tition to her Mtijesty, who said to me : — ' I will 
'< undertake to have these good people relieved from 
« so burthensome an annoyance.' She gave the do- 
" cument herself to M. de Vermont, in my presence 
" accompanying it with these words ; < / desire that 
*' immediate justice be done to this petition.* An as- 
" surance was given that her order should be attcn- 
«' ded to. Six weeks afterwards, a second petition 
" was sent from the corporation ; for the nuisance, 
*« after all had not been abated. Thus ar^ sovereigns 
*' deceived ! 

" I am persuaded," added madame Campan," that 
" if the second petition had reached the Queen, JM. 
" de Vermont would have received a sharp repri- 
« mand. She was always so happy when it was in her 
<< power to do good, that to deprive her of any thing 
'« of the kind, was really an act of barbarity. 



" Previously to the 10th of August, 1792, the 
*< Queen frequently kept me by her bed-side, after 
" she had retired, that we might talk over public 
« events. Her Majesty, in taking a review of them, 
" used to express a presentiment of their results. 
" But, madame, said I, a door of escape from this 



JOURNAL. SI 

" perilous place is pointed out to you — do not, then, 
" I beseech you, continue here. ♦ History is busy 
" with us/ replied the Queen, * we neither can, nor 
<( ought to, accept the offers made to us. Were 
" death itself the consequence, we cannot consent to 
" be saved by the men who have possessed them- 
" selves of our authority.' ' Madam,' said I, < his- 
" tory will take her own course j only save yourself 
" and family in the first place.' The page of history 
«* was ever present to the mind of her Majesty : so 
«' true is it that misfortune is not to be fled from." 
Madame Campan was very much affected whilst 
relating to me this conversation. 



Madame Campan used to observe : « A man 
" should be in the world what a good book is in a 
« library, an object always seen with interest and 
" pleasure, and from whose acquaintance wq never 
« fail to gain something." 



« From the situation in which the government has 
*' placed the aristocracy, or the ultras, (for the terms 
*' are synonymous) they are supported entirely by 
" the people. Their feet rest on the shoulders of 
^( the plebeia»is. If the latter should move, the for- 
«« mer would be thrown from their places, and redu- 
** ced to their proper level. This is the whole mys- 
«■ tery. These gentlemen think of nothing but des- 
" potism ; but do they wish it to be exercised over 
'i themselves ? No, indeed, they are not such fools. 
" For whom, then, do they want it ? If they were 
<' themselves to be the victims of this much talked of 
" despotism, they would, instead of favouring it, op- 



52 JOURNAL. 

"pose it with all their might ; for the first wish of 
" man is to say : I am free, I bow to no authority, 
'« except the law. But they would employ despotism 
<* to secure every advantage to thenvselves. Let eve- 
*« ry citizen, who falls in with the ideas of the aris- 
" tocracy, reflect that they are deluding him only to 
^( employ him as a tool. Let him only ask himself, 
« when they get all they want, what will they give 
" me ? He will soon find himself caught in their 
" nets and will have no alternative but to be their 
*' very humble slave. I have heard several distin- 
" guished individuals complain of the resistance 
<« their party has experienced, and I said to them ; 
" You are preaching in favour of a saint, who is no 
« longer the idol of the nation ; and even if the peo- 
<* pie were to invoke him, every favour would be dis- 
" pensed to you. People are too wise, now-a-days,^ 
" to amuse themselves in praying for others. If it 
" were not very much to your advantage, you would 
" not pursue your object so perseveringly. Weie it 
" not that the government lends you strength, you 
« would,-in spite of your efforts, be hurled into the 
" dust of the consulate ; thus, you see on what your 
<* power depends. Even though you should succeed 
" in completing the imprudent task youtiave begun, 
«' you will have to wage continual war in order to 
'« keep an enlightened nation in tutelage : this would 
« be no easy matter. Parchments cannot change 
" men's natures. Pretensions confer no moral or 
*' physical quality, except folly. You wnsh to enjoy 
" tranquillity at the expense of the liberties of the 
«' people ; but they will never submit to that. The 
" revolution has tried your cause, and your appeal 
<« will be rejected." 



JOURNAL. 53 

Madame Regnier, the wife of a law officer of Ver- 
sailles, while talking in the presence of a numerous 
party assembled at her own house, dropped some re- 
marks which were out of place though not very im- 
portant. Her husband reprimanded her before the 
whole company saying: " silence, madam, you are a 
fooK" She lived twenty or thirty years after this 
and never uttered a single word, even to her children. 
A pretended theft was committed in her presence, 
in the hope of taking her by surprise but without ef- 
fect ; and nothing could induce her to speak. When 
her consent was requisite for the marriage of any of 
her children, she bowed her head and signed the 
contract. Such an instance of resolute obstinacy was 
never known ; her vanity never forgave the affront. 
She must have had her due share of self-conceit. 



23. — M. de Beaumont, chamberlain to the Empress 
Josephine, was one day at Malmaison, expressing 
his regret that M. D.*^=^, one of Napoleon's gene- 
rals who had recently been promoted, did not belong 
to a great family. '^ You mistake, sir," observed 
madame Campan, " he is of very ancient descent ; he 
*« is one of the nephews of Charlemagne. All the 
" heroes of our army sprang from the elder branch 
" of that sovereign's family who never emigrated. 

When madame Campan related this circumstance 
to me, she added : «' After the SOth of March, 1814, 
" some officers of the army of Conde presumed to 
^' say to certain French marshals, that it was a pity 
<< they were not more nobly connected. In answer 
«' to this one of them said : ' True nobility, gentle- 
<' men, consists in giving proofs of it. The field of 
F 



54 JOURNAL. 

*« honour has witnessed ours ; but, where are we to 
" look for yours ? Your swords have rusted in their 
'« scabbards. Our laurels may well excite envy ; we 
" have earned them nobly, and we owe them solely 
" to our valour. You have merely inherited a name. 
<* This is the distinction between us." 



Madame Campan used to say, *< Politeness is a 
" coin which causes many imperfections to be over- 
" looked. On leaving home, one should fill one's 
'• pockets with it, in pieces of various values, so 
" that it may be paid out in any requisite amount. 
« He who provides himself with it only on particular 
" occasions, will find that he has rarely any to use." 

Madame Campan several times shewed me the au- 
tograph copy of a letter, written by Louis XIV., to 
his grandson, Philip V. of Spain. This letter, of 
which I made a literal copy, is as follows : 

" Versailles, August 20th, 1704. 
" I am sorry to hear of the capture of Gibraltar ; 
but I think it will be difficult for the enemy to fix 
himself securely in a place destitute of any safe port 
or road, and for which supplies can be obtained only 
from the sea. It is important that you should prevent 
the enemy from establishing himself in Castile, or 
Estramadura ; he would defend, with his utmost 
strength, the towns which he might take in those pro- 
vinces. You must ascertain whether you can withdraw 
troops from your frontiers, without too far reducing 
the strength of your army ; and in that case you will 
do well to form a detachment strong enough to re- 
cover Gibraltar as speedily as possible. If you can- 



JOURNAL. OO 

not do so, tins expedition must be deferred until an- 
oiiier time ; and in the meanwhile, the marquess de 
Villadareas, with the troops he commands and those 
which you send him from Madrid, may pre\ ent the 
further advance of the enemy. 

** Yon ask for my advice, and I send it you; but 
the best counsel is useless, if it be not solicited or 
followed until the mischief takes place. It is often 
more easy to prevent than to remedy an evil, and I 
regret to say, that I foresee strange perplexities if 
you do not establish some kind of order in the ma- 
nagement of your affairs. You have hitherto reposed 
your chief confidence in incompetent or interested 
individuals. I recommend you to get rid of Cava- 
les. I recal Ozzy ; but on your part I experience 
resistance and opposition to this measure. You see 
the fruit of these men's labour, in the state of your 
armies and fortresses, yet it appears to me, that their 
interest wholly occupies you : and at a moment when 
you should be engaged in the most enlarged views, 
you are looking down on the cabals of the princess of 
the Ursins, with which I am continually annoyed. 

" I am convinced of your sincerity ; but if unfor- 
tunately you should forfeit that virtue which natural- 
ly belongs to you^ still I think that you love me, and 
that you love the interests of your people too well to 
deceive me. I therefore fully credit your assurance, 
that you will really follow my advice. Profit, I en- 
treat vou, by the counsel which I now offer you, and 
wjiich is dictated by those feelings of friendship and 
affection which I shall never cease, to cherish for you. 

*' You cannot possibly succeed, while your affairs 
continue in their present state of disorder. Appoint 



56 JOURNAL. 

a wise and enlightened council. The Duke dc; 
Grammont will name to you the individuals, who, in 
my opinion, are competent to be raembtrs of it. Do 
not delay calling them together, consult them on all 
matters relating to war, finance, and general politics ; 
avail yourself of their information and experience, 
and issue no order v, ith w hich they are not previously 
made acquainted. 

" When I see this council v/ell established, I shall 
feel more confidence in sending you the aid of which 
you stand in need ; but until this measure be adopted, 
I have but too much reason to consider the troops 
which I send into Spain as lost. All that I do for 
you appears to be useless j and though I earnestly 
desire to support you, yet you will place it out of my 
power to do so, if this disorder should continue. 
Shew that Spain possesses a king and a council ; that 
the sovereign authority is in your hands ; and that 
the individuals who have abused your confidence, 
are not the rulers cf the monarchy. 

" I never recommended to your Majesty any thing 
inimical to your real glory, and the interest of your 
states. That you should labour to promote that 
glory and interest is the only reward I ask for all I 
do, and for all the affection I cherish towards you. 

" (Signed} l.ouis." 

<'• I have already requested that you will restore 
the marquess de Rivas to ail his official functions. 
I again repeat my request, because I conceive the re- 
instatement of the marquess to be essential to your 
interest; and I expect to ste ray solicitation com- 
plied with, since you have expressed a willingness to 
be guided by my advice.'' 



JOURNAL. 57 

Madame Campan sometimes remarked that " cour- 
" tiers belong to the person of their sovereign, as peo- 
" pie belong to their native soil. Courtiers live on 
" the sovereign, as people live on the land that gives 
" them birth. 

" Sovereigns," she added, " are never willing to 
<* acknowledge the faults they have committed. They 
" always seek and find an apology. But facts will 
" not be viewed in this way by history ; no healing 
" balsam will be applied there." 



" When in Switzerland, in the year 1821, we met 
" at our hotel two English travellers. They happen- 
<' ed to dine in the same apartment with us, and 
'< while we were seated at our respective tables, the 
" younger of the two Englishmen said to his friend : 
*< who are those two old women ? meaning Madame 
" Voisin* and me. I stopped them short, by telling 
" them, that I understood English, or heaven knows 
'' what compliments they might have passed on our 
" wrinkled faces at 69 ! I thought this was the wis- 
'* est course. A woman's love of coquetry does not 
<* decline with her charms : the merest trifle wounds 
" her vanity. I was in the right, Voisin, was I not I 
" said she, laughing. Those gallants would have 
" treated us as rudely as time has done." 

24th. — " On the 3d of June, 1811, Napoleon ac- 

• Madame Voisin was connected with Madame Campan for the space 
of thirty years, during which period she shared her good and bad fortune 
■with the tenderest affection. There have been few examples of such 
profound attachment. Madame Voisin did not surviTe the loss of her 
friend. 

J 2 



58 JOURS'AL. 

^< companied by Maria Louisa and several person- 
" ages of distinction, visited the establishment at E- 
" coum. After inspecdng the chapel and the refec- 
*« tories, Napoleon desired that the three principal 
«' pupils might be presented Xo him. Sire, said I, I 
" cannot select three, I must present six. He turned 
" on his heel, and repaired to the platform, where, 
" after seeing^ all the classes assembled, he repeated 
" his demand. Sire, said I, I beg leave to inform 
" your Majesty that I should commit an injustice to- 
** wards several other pupils, who are as far advanced 
" as those whom I might have the honour to pre- 
<< sent to you. 

" Berthier and others intimated to me, in a low 
" tone of voice, that I should get into disgrace by my 
<' non-compliance. Napoleon looked over the whole 
<* of the house, entered into the most trivial details ; 
'• and after addressing questions to several of the pu- 
" pils: * Well, madam, said he, I am satisfied, shew 
« me your six pupils." ' Madame Campan present- 
ed them to him ; and as he stepped into his carriage, 
he desired that their names might be sent to Ber- 
thier. On addressing the list to the prince de Neuf- 
chatel, madame Campan added to it the names of 
four rrher pupils, and all the ten obtained a pension 
of 500 francs. During the three hours which this 
visit occupied, the Empress did not utter a single 
word. 



" If that great man," said madame Campan allud- 
ing to Napoleon, " had not been surrounded by base 
*' parasites, he might have been prevented fromcom- 
^ mitting many faults. On the day after his visit to 



JOURNAL. 59 

*' Ecouen, a queen wrote to inform me that I did 
" wrong in not immediately obeying the Emperor's 
'< orders, and that my resistance might be attended 
«' with unpleasant consequences. All bowed beneath 
" the influence of his character and his authority ; 
" they never seemed to understand that he was so 
" much under the control of reason, to be unable to 
'« resist solicitations that were just, however impor- 
'< tunate. Courtiers are every where so afraid of 
" losing their places, that they adhere to any thing 
<i that may please or flatter the sovereign. To this 
'« cause must be attributed all the political faults that 
'< are committed, and which frequently bring about 
** the ruin of all parties.'* 



25th.^ — During the Consulate, Napoleon one day 
said to madame Campan : '^ If ever I establish a 
republic of women, I shall make you First Consul." 



Josephine having been invited, during the Consu- 
late, to dine with a rich army-contractor. Napoleon 
said : " I do not object to your dining with bankers, 
they are merely dealers in money j but I will not 
have you visit contractors for they are robbers of 



money." 



Madame Campan has many times told me that 
marshal Ney, just at the moment when the battle of 
the Moskowa was decided, sent to request of Napo- 
leon the whole reserve of the guard. Napoleon in- 
quired of the aide-de-camp whether the Russian 
guard had yet engaged ; he was told that they had, 
and had been beaten by the troops of the line, " In 



60 JOURNAL. 

that case," replied he, «* it will be a finer thing to be 
able to say, in the bulletin, that the battle was gained 
without my reserve having been brought into ac- 
tion." 

Marshal Ney had n^ade this request with a view 
to cut off the retreat of the Russians ; and had the 
reserve marched forward, it is probable that nearly 
the whole of their army would have been made pri- 
soners, and that a treaty might have been arranged 
on the field of battle. 



It was a saying of Napoleon's, that if you but 
scratched the skin of a Russian, you would instantly 
discern the barbarian. 



26th. — " How soon," said madame Campan, "par- 
<' ties recognise and understand each other, without 
'f interchanging a word. 1 do good ; for to me that 
" is a necessity ; and it sometimes leads me even 
*' beyond my means. During the time I have re- 
" sided at Mantes, I have relieved the unfortunate 
*< as far as lies in my power. Yet the ladies com- 
«' posing the Benevolent Society, have not proposed 
<* that I should become a member of it. In my 
" aged and infirm condition, I should not have ac- 
«' ceded to such a proposal. To give privately is 
" more congenial to my feelings. But without car- 
*< rying my pretensions too far, I think this little 
<' mark of respect was due to me. However, I thank 
*« them for havmg forgotten me ; it was a more 
" happy thought to pay their court to a certain lady, 
«' who assvimes the title of ^larchioness. Be that as 
" it may, I love and esteem the ladies of the society. 



JOURNAL. 61 

* who are highly respectable, and who deserve the 
< gratitude of the poor of Mantes. I merely men- 
' tion the circumstance, because it arises out of a 
political cause. I feel convinced that it is not oc- 
f casioned by any feelings of personal animosity to- 
' wards me." 



ifc 



'•' The talent of madame de Stael," said madame 
Campan, "gave her a masculine character. To si- 
** lence her, it would have been necessary, as I told 
'< the empress Josephine, to give her a court dress 
<' with a long train ; she would have sought no bet- 
<< ter. The man who persecuted her was at first her 
'< hero J her brilliant imagination exalted him into 
«< an idol. Napoleon feared her at home ; but she 
<' did him a great deal more mischief abroad. Un- 
*< der his own wing, he might have kept her in check ; 
<' but when vexed and irritated, she avenged herself 
« with the bitterness that might be expected from a 
<' woman of superior talent wounded to the quick. A 
<* woman who can write manifestoes is worthy of 
" consideration ; indeed, policy renders it a duty to 
<« respect her. When authority wounds and tor- 
" ments persons possessed of high talent, it creates 
« enemies sometimes more dangerous than those 
<' whom it contends with. Napoleon one day inter- 
'< rupted madame de Stael, in the midst of a profound 
'« political argument, to ask her whether she had 
'< nursed her children." 



27th. — « At court," observed madame Campan, 
'< wit has more influence than reason. Do you know 
<< why ? — Because wit is fed by pride, and reason by 



62 JOURNAL. 

** philosophy j and as there is always more of pride 
" than philosophy in courts, reason must relinquish 
" the supremacy. This is the cause of all the follies 
<' that are committed in courts. 

** The old nobility will never sincerely unite with 
<* the new. The reason assigned for this is, that the 
" nobles are the children of the revolution ; they are 
'f merely tolerated. The system by which they at- 
<« tained their rank is declared to be illegitimate. It 
*« is said that they have obtained their titles by revolt, 
'« and must be kept at a distance. Countenance is 
« indeed shown to a few, lest too great an outcry 
« should be raised j but they are always treated with 
<' a certain degree of reserve." 



Madame Campan, when conversing on the subject 
of the existing law of election, and the sort of aris- 
tocracy created by it, observed, that it would neces- 
sarily restore the law of primogenitureship, in order 
to afford the government a powerful influence over 
the electors of the great colleges. 



Napoleon was relating, at the Tuileries, after his 
return from Austerlitz, that he could have made the 
two Emperors his prisoners in that battle : — " Why 
did you not bring them with you," said a princess 
to him— '< we could have entertained them with the 
carnival." '< In sooth," was the reply, *< such prison- 
ers are apt to create too«much embarrassment." 



He said, on another occasion, that his conscripts, 
when they quitted their homes, wore only the cloak 



JOURNAL. 6S 

of courage ; but that after they had faced the enemy 
once or twice, their hearts were filled with it. 



28th.. — «' From the situation in which lam placed," 
said Napoleon to madame Campan, *< I very much 
pity all who are about me. Their characters are all 
known to me ; and I could make a report of them 
just as you report the conduct of the scholars under 
your superintendance. Ambition is their ruling pas- 
sion. All is right that promotes their advancement, 
but all is wrong that tends to their retrogression. 
Their pride is very elastic ; their ingenuity enables 
them to lengthen or shorten it as circumstances re- 
quire. But I keep them within due bounds. They look 
only to themselves ; and they forget the nation which 
is the first principle. What would they be without 
it ? The favours of which I dispose, belong to the 
people ; but the men who are enjoying them, would 
not scruple to show their ingratitude to the nation 
and to me, if temptation should present itself.'* 

*< It must be confessed,'' said madame Campan, 
<■< that he judged correctly." 



Napoleon related, that a few days before the bat- 
tle of Austerlitz, some agitation had prevailed, par- 
ticularly in Paris. "The warmth of the court 
party," said he, «' had fallen to temperate ; but on 
hearing of my success, they rallied round me as if 
they had been charged by the Cossacks. This is the 
way of the world." 



" The progress of information brought about the 
*< revolution in France ; but our manners checked it. 



64 JOURNAL. 

"If the light of information be extinguished, our 
" manners are ready prepared for the restoration of 
«« the old state of things." 



<' If," said Napoleon, <' I created so many princes 
and kings, it was that I might present to the world a 
specimen of my power. I should have acted very 
differently, but for the reverses I experienced at 
Moscow. To have kept the English in subjection 
for three or four years would have sufficiently an- 
swered my views. I would have given liberty to all 
nations, and directed their views to elevated and no- 
ble principles. Honour should have been the basis 
of all. But fate thwarted my plans : this was the 
greatest calamity that could have befallen the nations 
of Europe." 



March 1st. — During the Directory, madame 
Campan had a chapel in her school, where a priest 
performed mass every day. The establishment was 
perhaps one of the first in France. At this period, 
the death of Robespierre had suspended the reign of 
terror, though it was not near at an end. The police 
had received intimation that mass was celebrated in 
madame Campan's house, and some commissioners 
from the government were sent to order the chapel 
to be closed. When they presented themselves, 
madame Campan said : *< Citizens, in my school 
« principles of morality must be inculcated. If 
** you take away the Gospel, what would you substi- 
" tute in its stead ? A code of religion is necessary 
" for the preservation of morality, as a code of laws 
" is requisite for regulating society. ( Citizeness,' 



JOURNAL. 65 

«' replied the commissioners, < the nation has ac- 
" knowledged the supreme being, and the immor- 
" tality of the soul. Conform with those principles. 
" Orders must be executed, and not commented 
" on.' " 



<< The tranquillity which 1 have enjoyed at Man- 
** tes, during latter years, has made me drink up life 
*< like a glass of luke-warm water." 



2d. — Mole, the actor, after paying a visit to the 
Duke de Fronsac, on New Year's day, met Fieury 
on the stair-case. The latter inquired whether he 
had been paying his court to Monseigneur ; :o which 
Mole replied : " Yes, certainly ; it cost nothing. I 
always fancy I am on the stage, when I lavish this 
kind of incense. It is a part to be played like any 
other." 



«' How unfortunate are the men who surround 
" sovereigns, when they obtain from them marks o£ 
" favour and private confidence ! I am not only one 
" who has paid dearly for this honour. Certain tra= 
<' vellers, I know of, could tell the same tale.'* 



The empress Josephine, at the time of her divorce 
requested permission to proceed to the United States. 
Napoleon informed her that he could not answer for 
her safety in crossing the sea, <* Then yuur power 
finds an obstacle," said she, " Would to heaven there 
were seas to be crossed Tor the fulfilment of all your 
wishes ! your glory would then beam for ever." 



66 JOURNAL. 

M. Seguier, grand vicar of Mantes, asked madame 
Campan for some information respecting the death 
of the marquess de Favras. " The public papers of 
<< the time," said she, <^ heaped the most odious ca- 
" lumny on Monsieur, now Louis XVIII. Unfor- 
« tunate circumstances determined the death of the 
" Marquess." 



" Do you know," said madame Campan, " why po- 
«« litical delinquents show so little indulgence in their 
" disposition ? It is because they wish to hide them- 
« selves behind their own declarations." 



Napoleon remarked to madame Campan, during 
the Consulate, " that he who possesses the key of the 
French treasury may be acquainted with all that is 
going on in the cabinets of Europe, which, he added, 
is by no means a matter of indifference, at any time. 



Napoleon used to say, " that indulgence should 
descend from the throne : but that it does not so 
readily ascend to it, since subjects only exercise that 
virtue in proportion as they receive protection." 



«' How would a monarch govern, if his subjects 
« were all men of rank ? Would it be necessary to 
<' make laws expressly for them, of a nature different 
« from those to which other men are subjected ? 
if Previously to the adoption of any measure, the 
'« minister would take into consideration the over- 
" weening pretention, pride and vanity of men, with 
« old family parchments ; and after fairly weighing 
« all their claims, he would plainly see their un- 



JOURNAL. 67 

" founded presumption, in wishing to play dis- 
•* tinguished parts, and usurp privileges which could 
" not belong to them. He would be compilled to 
" regard them as humBle individuals, and to treat 
*< them accordingly. How would it be possible to 
" frame a law to satisfy pride, vanity and pretention ! 
" Men know how to appreciate themselves. They 
" find that strength exists in masses. The sabring 
" and cannonading of the revolutionary wars, have 
<' taught them that armies may be commanded with- 
« out a Turenne or a Conde.'* 



From the time when madame Campan underwent 
the operation, which was performed on the 5th of 
February, her health continued in a very satisfactory 
state until the Sd of March. During that interval 
no change for the worse took place. On the 4th of 
March, however, she was seized with a slight de- 
gree of fever, and all the symptoms of a catarrhal 
affection began to appear. The wound occasioned 
by the operation was by this time nearly healed. On 
the day on which this change first became observa- 
ble, there was an expression of apprehension in 
madame Campan's countenance, and she said to 
me : " Well! it is a catarrh. Lose no time, if you 
" wish to save me. I have strength to go through 
" any thing, and my confidence is boundless. I have 
" always dreaded this disorder. Pray do nothing by 
" halves. In situations of difficulty, cool determi- 
*' nation is necessary. One must intrench ont's un- 
«' derstanding in a strong hold ; mine will not be 
" easily besieged. I wish to have about me none 
" but my good friends of Mantes, and my valued 



68 JOURNAL. 

«' servants ; and if I should not survive, I shall have 
*' the satisfaction of breathing my last in the arras of 
" friendship." She had formed a correct opinion of 
the nature of her disorder. 



Feeling herselfsomewhat better in the evening, she 
said to me: ''Notwithstanding this improvement, 
" I do not feel quite at ease. Though I do not ex- 
*f perience any serious alarm, yet if I could change 
<' my situation I would ; bat that is out of ray power, 
*^ and I am resigned, for I never suffered myself to 
" murmur at fate. I calmly await what it may please 
<' God to do for me. The invalid who torments 
** himself, creates a moral disease, which serves but 
'* to increase that with which he is already assailed. 
" The doctor has then two enemies to contend with. 
*' If the disorder which the patient brings upon him- 
" self could cure the physical malady, it would be 
** well to employ it as a remedy ; but on the con- 
«' trary, it can only do mischief, and therefore I am 
«' resolved to avoid it." 



On the 6th the symptoms increased. Madame Cam- 
pan's pulse became feeble and irregular j but her 
mental energy continued unabated. After suffering 
severely for a few nours, she thus addressed me : 
•< I have survived a terrible crisis. Had it continued 
" much longer, I think I could not have held out. I 
<' felt my strength failing me. I tranquilly calcu- 
*< lated the progression. It was a terrible trial, and 
*♦ one which almost required the patience of a saint. 
" I felt that my life was hanging on a delicate thread, 
" ready to break ; as when oppressed with sleepi- 



JOURNAL. 



69 



«' ness we feel that we shall soon fall into a profound 
« slumber. But in these two cases the sensations are 
<« as you may suppose, different." 



In the evening finding herself a little better, ma- 
dame Campan asked me whether there were any 
news in the journals. On my answering that they 
contained nothing, she said : " They are in the wrong. 
" They should do their duty, which is to make known 
« the wants of the people, and to discuss the best 
« means of satisfying them. The aristocracy pre- 
" tends not to understand these wants, because they 
" wish to encroach upon every right. They cloak 
" their injustice under the words, firmness and de- 
" votedness. But people cannot live upon words ; 
" they require things. The politician who defends 
»' the cause of the people, acquires a claim on the 
" gratitude of mankind. This is truly noble devot- 
" edness, particularly at the present moment, when 
" power is waging a war in which generosity has no 
<' part." 

Madame Campan remarked, that the budgets of 
States formed the spiritual part of them. 

Napoleon used to observe, *< That if he had had 
two such field-marshals as Suchetin Spain, he would 
have not only conquered, but kept the Peninsula. 
Suchet's sound judgment, his governing, yet concili- 
ating, spirit, his military tact, and his bravery, had 
procured him astonishing success. It is to be regret- 
ted,'* added he, " that a sovereign cannot improvise 
men of his stamp." 

G 2 



70 JOURNAL. 

" As for mutual instruction, I fear it will be gra- 
" dually suppressed. This will shew that the minis- 
^' try wish to preserve ignorance, to enable them to 
<« govern the more easily, according to the plan they 
*^ have adopted. If information were to be generally 
<« diffused among the people, government would have 
<* to encounter many obstacles in the execution of its 
«' measures. When attempts are made to enslave 
<' the strongest party, all sorts of artifices are resort- 
*' ed to. A government loves its people for the uses 
'* that may be made of them, and not for their own 
" sakes. The friendship of men in power is selUsh ; 
*t there is nothing generous or noble in the senti- 
« ment." 



On the 7th the symptoms of madame Campan's 
disorder had rapidly increased. The remedies which 
were applied., afforded only temporary relief." The 
patient was occasionally cheerful, and addressed all 
about her in the most affectionate manner. She seem- 
ed hippy in having us near her, and frequently pres- 
sed our hands within her own. To madame Voisiu 
she said : — '< My dear friend, I shall not die yet a- 
<* while. Do not grieve thus. Two hearts like ours 
<' are not so easily separated. We shall drive away 
" the grim king of terrors ; shall we not, doctor? I 
eagerly replied in the affirmative ; adding, that I 
hoped soon to see her well again, and that her forti- 
tude was a sure guarantee for her recovery. « Yes, 
Voisin,'' she resumed, "we have suffered many ca- 
*'lamides together. But even misfortunes have their 
" end, and a few hours of happiness will make us 
*i forget them. I love you as a sister. We were 



JOURNAL. 71 

«' certainly formed for each other. Oar hearts are 
f( knit together, and death alone can part us." She 
pronounced these words without emotion, and in a 
tone of the most cordial affection. 



On the 8th, madame Campan said to me :— " I 
" must try to make up for the bad night I passed. 
" How long it appeared. Pain multiplies time araaz- 
'^ ingly. Physical indisposition would lead us into 
'< curious mistakes, if we had no clocks. Hours are 
'' as long as years. The same effect is produced 
" when the imagination and the passions are power- 
" fully excited. In the first case the patient must 
" look at his watch ; and in the second, hemustcon- 
« suit his understanding. If that be not sound, it 
" will yield to the impulse communicated to it. 
^i This is the cause of the errors into which even 
<* sensible men frequently fall. Such is the weak- 
" ness of human nature, that we may err even with 
" the best intentions : for we are not always able to 
*« contend against excited imagination and powerful 
" passion. It is these things that determine our fate." 



It afforded me the highest pleasure to listen to ma- 
dame Campan ; yet I was fearful lest she might fa- 
tigue herself? and therefore begged that she would 
refrain from conversation. " That would do me 
" more harm than good," she replied, «' I will talk 
*' slowly and gently." 



" The Bull's-eye party never forgave me for hav- 
" ing enjoyed the confidence of the King and Queen, 
<' and for having rendered others happy when it was 



f2 JOURNAL. 

" in my power so to do. The ladies of that swarm 

<« of flatterers were often unjust, and whenever the 
" Queen did me the honour to consult me, I told 
" her the plain truth, and assured her that a govern- 
" ment cannot be respected when it is not guided by 
"justice. I have seen men, who, without having 
*' rendered any service to their country, or given 
«' proofs of talent in any way, have had the effrontery, 
«< on the strength of their ancient families, to solicit 
«' places, which ought to have been given to men 
** who bad justly earned rewards by twenty or 
«' thirty years of tried service. The Qaeen im- 
« mediately threw aside these unreasonable peti- 
«' tions, and forgot the recommendations by which 
" they were backed. Her memory will be ever dear 
<* to me. I never in my life saw so amiable and fas- 
" cinating a woman. She had the mind of an angel, 
" and the serenity of her temper was never ruffled. 
" The calumny which was heaped upon her some- 
•'* times rendered her sad ; but never called forth 
*f any feeling of vindictiveness." 



" If I had been a princess,"' said madame Cam- 
pan, '* I should not have had all the Bull's-eye party 
" against me ; but it was supposed that the situation 
<* I held, and mv mere letters of nobility, did not 
*< entitle me to enjoy the honour of the Queen's fa- 
*• vour and friendship. This excited their envy; 
'' but they paid dearly for their folly. There was 
<* also another ground for their jealousy. They 
" knew I was better than they were themselves." 



On the 8th, madame Campan passed a quiet 



JOURNAL. 73. 

nighty but there was no improvement in her symp- 
toms. 

*« I had good eyes," said she, " when I was at 
" court, and I made good use of them. I never 
*< trusted to my ears. I was always on my guard 
<' against the impressions which they might lead me 
'' to form. At Versailles, tale-telling and slander 
" frequently assumed the place of truth. I therefore 
<' suspended my judgment until my eyes were con- 
'< vinced ; and this caution rendered me very confi- 
" dent of what I really knew. My enemies have 
" abused me sadly ; but when I am gone I hope my 
" memory will be more respected than I have been. 
" You cannot form an idea of the dangers with which 
'< one is assailed in a court : the ground is so slip- 
" pery that it requires the greatest care to keep a 
*< iirm footing." 



I mentioned to madame Campan what I had heard 
respecting M, Bourdier, physician to the empvess 
Maria Louisa : namely, that he had sacrificed his 
peace when he accepted the disagreeable office. 
These were his own words : " My dear doctor," 
said she, *' ambition is the first principle of the men 
'< who surround sovereigns ; pride and meanness 
<« come next in order. The conduct of courtiers is 
«' influenced solely by these three causes. If they 
«' stoop down, it is to grasp at something ; and if 
" they stand upright, it is to show their .importance, 
«' They learn to act their parts, and they who evince 
« most talent in the performance are most successful. 
" They have to pocket many affronts, it is true ; but 
*^ they are not over nice. At court, where favours 



74 JOURNAL. 

" are so lavishly distributed, merit is either ad= 
" vanced or kept back, according as it suits the in- 
" terest of men in power. Those who possess in- 
'* fluence, deliver their opinion, their partizans re- 
'< peat it ; and in the course of a few days, the 
"drawing-rooms pronounce the final -judgment. 
" People who think differently are afraid of compro- 
" mising themselves j and affecting a degree of ar- 
*< dour which they do not feel, they make more 
«' noise than the rest. Happiness never dwelt in the 
" palaces of kings. Courtiers acknowledge this, 
<* and here at least they may be believed." 



On the night of the 9th, madame Campan was. not 
quite so well as she had been the night before. In 
the morning the symptoms were the same as on the 
preceding day. Blisters had been applied ; and when 
they were removed the places appeared discoloured. 
After I had conversed with madame Campan for a 
few. minutes on some important subjects, she asked 
who had been sending to inquire after her. I told 
her the names of the persons who seemed to feel 
most interest respecting her. '' Their kindness," 
said she, " touches my heart. Under happier cir- 
<« cumstances I should have done much good at 
« Mantes ; but I am here upon half pay. I must 
" exercise a little philosophy, to enable me to forget 
*' the past, and live content with the present; yet I 
'« confess, I could not endure any very severe priva- 
<« tion, my philosophy would murmur, or would, 
" perhaps, forsake me altogether. But if new mis- 
f' fortunes were to assail me, I should begin again 
" to study how to bear them, and probably I should 



JOURNAL. 75 

*f succeed well enough. With a little courage one 
" may turn misery out of doors, when it comes to 
*< pay us a visit." 



11th. -—Madame Campan passed a bad night. We 
looked with impatience for the arrival of M. Voisin, 
who had returned home a few evenings previously. 
In spite of the confidence which madame Campan 
reposed in him, she did not seem at all affected by 
his delayed visit. Her understanding controled her 
feelings, and her presence of mind never failed her. 
I was the more distressed by M. Voisin's delay, be- 
cause I observed that the patient was getting gradu- 
ally lower, that every remedy had failed, and that 
nature was exhausted. 

In spite of the patient's hopeless condition, for 
hopeless we saw it was, on the second day of her ill- 
ness, I felt that the presence of M. Voisin would be 
of service to us. He was delayed for several hours, 
having been obliged to attend the duke d'Angouleme. 
I did not wish to have the responsibility entirely on 
myself. At length, however, M. Voisin arrived, 
and after examining the patient, he advised the con- 
tinuance of the remedies which had been already em- 
ployed. In course of the day, madame Campan, ad- 
dressing herself to me, said : — »* You are doing all 
<' you can for me, and I thank you. How soothing 
" are your attentions, and how deeply dors your 
" friendship move my heart." Then pressing my 
hand, she added : — »* I cannot express the feelings 
«' with which your kindness inspires me ! If I must 
<' die, my mind is fully made up. It is useless to 
<' contend with an adversary stronger than one's self. 



76 JOURNAL, 

«' My patience and resignation will not fail me. 
" Those who have known how to live should know 
" how to die. In thus bidding adieu to my family 
" and my friends, I feel a consolation in reflecting 
" that I do not leave my son behind me. Had he 
" survived me, he would have been wretched ; and 
*« that thought would have distressed me at the pre- 
" sent trying moment. Farewel, my good friend! 
•tf I throw myself into the arms of Providence. That 
<' is the invisible resting point, and the only one. It 
<* is a great consolation, and the imagination, though 
« startled, clings to it with pleasure. How gratify- 
<' ing it is to be able, on the approach of death, to 
<* abandon one's self cheerfully to an order of things^ 
« of the existence of which there has never yet been 
<' any mathematical demonstration. This rallying 
** point is indeed, a source of comfort." 

(Madame Campan had fulfilled all her religious 
duties before she underwent the operation.) 

'< 1 love the simplicity of my religion," said she ; 
«' I revere the faith in which I have been educated ; 
<' but I hate all that borders on fanaticism. I quit 
*' the scene of life after having witnessed many vi- 
*' cissitudes ; and every thing seems to forbode that 
<* France will yet be exposed to violent convulsions. 
'•' Tranquillity will not be established until senti- 
« ments of justice predominate, which they must 
«' ultimately do, for truth has asserted her rights. 
" The light so much detested, has penetrated every 
*' where. It is criminal to think on politics without 
*' having an eye to that public happiness on which 
*' private happiness depends. The governments, of 
** Europe are at present guided by ideas and pieju- 



JOURNAL. 'J*J 

" dices which are below the level of the age ; the 
*< carriage is driven along old traces and it will not 
" go smoothly until it reaches level ground. Power 
** should be centred only in the law ; it is misplaced 
" any where else : it has no other resting place which 
*' sound reason can acknowledge. Those who think 
" otherwise are blinded by the dust of old parch- 
" ments. They seem to forget that ruling by ordi- 
" nances is out of date. People want something 
'^ more substantial ; they will no longer submit to the 
" caprice of a minister, without complaining. The 
" time for that is gone by." 



12th. — Madame Campan passed a bad night, and 
was very ill during the day. 

« Well, doctor," she said, addressing herself to me, 
" I am going very fast, political events sometimes 
" urge us on as rapidly. I fear your skill will be un- 
" availing; my cure would indeed do you credit. I 
" suffer but little ; yet death is advancing at a sure 
« pace." I sought to encourage the patient, by as- 
suring her there still was hope. " Yes," she replied, 
" hope is very consolatory ; but when one sees a lit- 
" tie way before one, something else is requisite. I 
" feel no reason to cherish hope. My situation is 
<* sufficiently evident, from the affectionate attention 
** and interest manifested by my friends. Poor Voi» 
<' sin takes no rest \ if this should continue much lon- 
" ger, she will be ill too. I am happy to think that 
*"• my infirmities are not of a nature to offend those 
" about one. I am deeply affected by the proofs of 
*< kindness I receive. But let us talk of something 
« else." 
H 



78 JOURNAL. 

Napoleon remarked, that in every branch of the 
administration, he had met with men, who, with the 
art of speaking well, possessed also, in an eminent 
degree, that of doing ill ; whenever he discovered 
such, he knew how to reduce them to their proper 
place. 

Mr. Monroe, who was the United States ambas- 
sador in France, during the revolution, and after the 
fall of Robespierre, said to madame Campan at Saint- 
Germain : "Fortune is rolling down the kennel, and 
any one may stop and pick it up.*' During a walk in 
the wood of Saint-Germain, he was talking in de- 
fence of his country, which he held to be finer than 
ours : his daughter, who was but a child, a pupil in 
the establishment of Saint-Germain, interrupted him 
by saying : «' Yes, papa, but there are no streets in 
America like those," pointing, at the same time, to- 
wards the main road. '« Very true," said Mr. Mon- 
roe, «* our nation may be compared to a newly-form- 
ed household ; we are in want of many things, but 
we possess the finest thing of all — liberty." 



" Nations judge of the designs of governments, by 
" inspiration or by instinct. In vain are assurances 
'' given that such and such measures, apparently op- 
«« pressive, were dictated by pure intentions. These 
*' assertions receive just as much credit as a conquer- 
*' ed country grants to the proclamations of the ene- 
" my. Let governments respect the rights of their 
" subjects, and they will experience less opposition." 



13th. — The symptoms of madame Campan's disor- 



JOURNAL. - 79 

der continued increasing ; but her mind retained all 
its energy. 



The patient passed a tolerably easy day. Her 
cough was not violent ; but her strength gradually 
wasted, and her pulse continued to intermit more and 
more decidedly. 



14th.— Madame Campan grew gradually weaker 
and her countenance assumed a more unfavourable 
expression. She observed the uneasiness manifested 
by madame Voisin and madame Maigne, and she 
said to them ;— <^ Come, no more grieving ; think no 
« more about me ; you have done enough." In the 
course of the day she tried to sing, in order to rally 
their spirits. About noon she addressed me as fol- 
lows : '< One ought to forget one's own distresses, 

" and think on those which affect others. I am now 
" a stranger to public events, having lately had so 
« little opportunity of attending to them. But, 
" friend, "she added, lowering her voice, " I must try 
" to forget myself, and to withdraw my thoughts 
" from every thing around me. I am assailed by 
" too many painful ideas and fancies. Let us talk 
« on politics, doctor, to avoid talking about ourselves. 
<« Is there any disposition to improve the condition 
« of mankind ?" I replied that *' 1 thought there 
was." " I am rather incredulous on that point,'' 
said she. *« To enter properly into the spirit of a 
" people, it is necessary that their wants should be 
" understood ; and hitherto I see no reason to be^ 
<« lieve that the subject has claimed any attention, 
i' But I hope I am deceived." 



80 JOURNAL. 

15th. — The patient passed a bad night on the 14th. 
She frequently spoke of her family, to whom she was 
tenderly attached. When in good health, she her- 
self often observed, that she had too much of a fa- 
mily heart not to think of her relations. In the 
morning I found her nearly in the same state as when 
I left her on the preceding day. Her ideas still con- 
tinued clear and profound. *< What think you," 
said she, " of the men who bargain for their opin- 
** ions in the market of Paris ? Certainly they arc 
" losing sight of their first duty. 

" Morality and justice are now invoked. This is 
« done to avenge thirty years of humiliation. Mi- 
" Dorities, when once they gain the ascendency, 
" never show any mercy to the majorities they super- 
" sede. The fools and fanatics of parties are always 
" the sport of the poHcy and ambition of plotters." 



« I feel," said madame Campan, <<■ that my disso- 
<« lution is fast approaching. Every thing seems to 
*' be vanishing from me. However, my strength is 
" not yet entirely gone, and I will tell you an anec- 
** dote. I was dining one day at Malmaison with 
" the First Consul, when he noticed the snuff-box 
« which I always carried with me, and taking it in 
'< his hand he recognised the features of Marie An- 
*t toinette," 

*< Good, very good, madame Campan," said he, 
« this reflects credit on you. I hate ingratitude. 
" It must be very satisfactory to you to possess the 
" image of that charming woman. They would have 
<* ruined her in 1793 j but who would they not have 
«« ruined ? Their hatred of birth and titles bordered 



JOURNAL. 81 

" on madness. You would have died with her, I am 
" sure, and I know you will die with her portrait be- 
" side you." 

"Doctor," added she, after a pause : « he spoke 
« truly, as you see." 



16th. — During the night of the 15th, madame 
Campan was occupied in arranging matters of busi- 
ness, and particularly in settling legacies on her do- 
mestics. 

When I visited her in the morning, the hand of 
death was upon her. Her extremities were cold, and 
her pulse had almost ceased to beat. " I wish to 
make my last will," said she, " but I do not think I 
can. Will you have the goodness to write for me ?" 
I eagerly signified my readiness to comply with her 
desire. " I must sign my name," said she, " though 
I know it is not necessary. " My relations are all 
" too honourable to fail in the fulfilment of my last 
'< wishes." I must here note down an expression 
which forcibly marked the goodness of her heart. In 
bequeathing legacies to her domestics, Chenier and 
Gent-vieve, who had served her with the most afiec- 
tionate fidelity, she said to me ; « They have become 
" my relations."* 

Having signed her name with some degree of dif= 
ficulty, she paused and said : '' It will be better 
" to have a notary." Her own notary was immedi= 
ately sent for, and she explained to him with the 
greatest precision all that she wished to have done^ 

* These two excellent servants are now in the household of Madame 
Campan's niece. 

U2 



82 JOURNAL. 

The codicil was then presented to her for signa- 
ture. Her hand tremble i, and she said with a smile : 
*« It would be a pity to stop short on so pleasant a 
« road." 



Dissolution was fast approaching ; and every re- 
viving remedy had failed. About 11 o'clock the pa- 
tient turned her head towards the window, which 
had been opened. The sky was clear and the air 
refreshing. *< This," said she, " is the evening of 
«« a fine day, which has been darkened only by a few 
« passing clouds. I am glad that I was induced to 
"visit Switzerland! I there passed two months of 
«< unalloyed happiness***. She is so amiable and 
'' our hearts were so perfectly in unison. 

" My dear doctor, I am no longer of this world. 
« We are about to part for ever. I should have had 
" many affairs to settle j but heaven has been pleased 
" to ordain otherwise." 



I endeavoured to support madame Campan's cou- 
rage J but alas, I found that my own deserted me. 
She exerted all her remaining strength to talk to us, 
in spite of all I said to induce her to refrain from 
speaking. She remained silent for a few moments, 
and then said : «*'/ must express my thoughts in spite 
** of every thing." Her mental faculties still retain- 
ed all their energy. I had removed to a little dis- 
tance from her bedside, and she called me back in a 
tone of voice less gentle than usual. I hastened to 
her ; and then reproaching herself for this little 
mark of hastiness, she said : «< How imperatively 
*^ one speaks when one has not time to be polite J" 



JOURNAL. 83 

She read in our countenances that she had not 

f^ long to live, in spite of the effort we made to conceal 

our feelings. Her breathing becanie more and more 

difficult J and about six in the evening she heaved 

her last sigh. 

Her excellent sister, madame Pannelier, was 
among us at that sad moment. 



LETTERS 



OF 



seas>aie:b ©amipa;^- 



LETTERS 



OF 



MADAME CAMP AN. 



Mantes, Jan. 4th, 1819. 
Sir, 

The commencement of the new year, will, I pre- 
sume, have induced you to quit C* * * on a vist to 
Paris. To see our relations and friends at the re- 
newal of each succeeding year, is a gratification re- 
quired by heart, as well as a law imposed by custom. 
This is the time, when travellers on the journey of 
life stop and rest, salute each other, and say to 
themselves: Well! here is one year ended; how 
shall we pass that which is just begun ? The fashion 
of presenting sweetmeats at this season, is an alle- 
gorical expression of our wish that the ensuing year 
may glide away sweetly. The Romans used to give 
away, at the commencement of the new year, little 
pots of well-refined honey : but certainly our confec- 
tioners in the Rue des Lombards exceed all that was 
known to the ancients in the art of preparing these 
little presents. 

No doubt the society of the Prefect will afford 
you useful and agreeable recreation. He is a man 
of the world, and a man whose estimable qualities 
render him beloved in his department. I should 



88 LETTERS or 

conclude that he is very amiable in domestic life. 
One always finds in the family circle, a justification 
of the opinion formed of an individual by the ma- 
jority of the public. You are reading M. Fer- 
rand's Esprit de V Histoire. It is, indeed, an excel- 
lent work : publicx opinion has pronounced this deci- 
sion. Yet it is evidently written with a particular 
view. All, or almost all, the results tends to prove 
the superiority of old laws and customs ; a question 
which I do not mean to dispute, but which is not to 
be admitted as a positive principle. A country 
changes in the progress of time, just as scenes change 
in the course of a journey. 

The reason why there is so much misunderstand- 
ing at present is, that certain individuals persist in 
speaking in the dialect of 1660, to a generation which 
has adopted a new dialect. I would advise you to 
study the pure and simple history of facts, without 
suffering your mind to be influenced by the opinion 
of any particular author. It should be your own 
task to compare one age with another ; and to re- 
flect on the follies, faults, and crimes of different 
eras. For example, when history unfolds pictures 
of popular fury, and describes the atrocities occa- 
sioned by impiety or fanaticism, compare the mur- 
ders of the Armagnacs and the Boarguignons, com- 
mitted in the state prisons of Paris, with those per- 
petrated on the 2d of September, 1792: — You will 
find that the causes of crime vary, but that men are 
always the same \ and you will see the horrors at- 
tendant on popular violence, whether excited by re- 
ligious or political fanaticism. If your thoughts be 
directed to headlong enterprises of valour, the love 



MADAME CAMPAN. 89 

of arms, the ambition which distinguish conquerors, 
and the little which all their victories enable them to 
bequeath to their descendants, you will find Alexan- 
der, Charles XIL, and Napoleon, all on one line. 
If you reflect on those hazardous undertakings in 
which valour and wisdom must be counted for no- 
thing, you will see that Saint Louis perished in a 
foreign land, where countless numbers of brave men 
forfeited their lives ; and that Napoleon lost his army 
and his crown in a distant expedition : the one mo- 
narch was sacrificed on a burning southern soil, and 
the latter, amidst the snow of the north. If you look 
back to those crimes which time renders daily more 
and more odious, you may compare the massacre of 
St. Bartholomew, and the scaffolds of Robespierre. 
This is the true spirit oj history ; it is the study of 
the foibles and passions of poor human nature. 
Would you see how far men may carry the abuse of 
unlawful power, read what the Maires du Palais did 
with their kings. Would you judge how powerful 
bodies of men may abuse their strength, look at the 
conduct of the old feudal chiefs, who, clothed in 
mail, descended from their strong holds, to lay waste 
woods and plains, to fire villages, and make kings 
tremble on their thrones. Would you contemplate 
the abuse of popular power, that may be found in the 
clubs of 1793, and under the furious and sanguinary 
red cap of the Jacobins. Such is the true spirit of 
history, I have not read this any where ; but I have 
read many things which have suggested these ideas. 
Whether priesthood or philosophy reign, one thing 
only can govern and restrain the passions of mankind. 
One thing alone can confer happiness on human na- 
I 



90 LETTLR5 01 

ture ; and this is a good system of laws, judiciously 

administered by men inaccessible to influence, as well 
as to corruption. To a professor of the law, there- 
fore, how necessary is the study of history, combined 
with the just contemplation of human actions. La- 
bour perseveringly. You have made choice of the 
finest path in the career of human life. 

Accept every assurance of my sincere and tender 
regard. 

G. C. 

P. S. I have just read over my hastily-written 
letter. Do not suppose I am a female philosopher. 
You will make a mistake if you do. I have always 
revered the laws of my religion. But I have exer- 
cised my powers of observation, and I wish to in- 
duce you to do so likewise. That is all, I assure 
rou. 



Mantes, May 13th, 1821. 
Sir, 
I have received your kind and agreeable letter, 
and I hasten to reply to it, as I am about to leave 
Mantes, and to travel. Yes, to travel, in the proper 
sense of the term, for I am going to Switzerland, 
during the season, to take the waters of Baden, either 
in the baths, or from the pump. I have been induced 
to undertake this journey, by the affectionate solici- 
tations of my good nieces, and by ibe advice of my 
medical attendants. They assure me that this in- 
tended visit to Baden will have the effect of restoring 



.MADAME CAMP AN. 91 

my health, and furnishing my mind with recollec- 
tions of scenes and individuals which may, hereafter, 
not banish, for that is impossible, but at least help to 
divert away the painful thoughts that continually 
haunt me. I propose returning in September. At 
the baths I expect to meet several ladies, formerly 
my pupils, whom it will afford me great pleasure to 
see again ; but I will never traffic for the tender re- 
collections of friendship and the revered sentiments 
of gratitude. 

I thought that nobody would consider it worth 
while to trouble their, heads about an old woman, 
erased and cancelled from' every favour, though her 
peace of mind is not disturbed by the consciousness 
of having committed any wicked action. But I was 
mistaken. It has been mentioned in several fami- 
lies in Paris, that I am about to take up my abode 
with my pupil, Hortense. This is absolutely false. 
I am going only to Switzerland ; and I would not 
willingly have my poor bones laid at rest in any other 
country, save that which gave me birth. 

Fate sometimes changes for the better, at the very 
moment when it seems most hopeless. 

Your remarks on the judicial magistracy are ex- 
ceedingly just, profound, and well digested. But 
you have looked only at the dark side of the picture. 
Examined in the right point of view, that dignified 
and useful profession will be found to be the very 
first in the civil branch of the government, and it 
should be uninfluenced by the advantages which the 
military profession has in all ages laid claim to. 
When poor, the magistracy are indeed much to be 
pitied, and still more so are their families, who may 



m 



LETTERS OF 



not be excited by the noble sentiments v/ith which 
they are themselves animated. They should call to 
mind the venerable recollections inspired in the 
church, by the bishops with wooden crosses, who for- 
feited so much of their merit to the detriment of 
religion, when their crosses came to be made of gold. 
An upright and intelligent judge, wJio has pro- 
foundly studied the law, and administers it impar- 
tially, who never bestows a glance on the exterior 
of him who appeals for justice, or who seeks to 
evade it ; — a judge who sees only the important 
balance which is placed in his hand ;— who, aware 
that a grain of sand will turn that balance, is guided 
only by God and his conscience, in casting that grain 
of sand ; — who bears in mind only the two imposing 
words, guilty or innocent ; — who knows that his go- 
vernment has framed laws, which he is called upon 
to administer, and that ke must not consult the 
changes that may take place in that government, so 
long as the code remains unchanged ; — a judge who 
turns a deaf ear to the dangerous entreaties of beauty 
bathed in tears, and who is not to be tempted by 
gold, sees in his turn the warrior disarmed, submit- 
ting to the sentence of the law, which it is his office 
to pronounce. Such a man must be beloved and es- 
teemed, whether he reside in a capital containing a 
hundred thousand souls, or in a little town like Man- 
tes. He reads the expression of respect in all eyes ; 
he is the terror of the wicked, and the hope of the 
just. To an honourable mind such a situation must 
surely afford the highest happiness. 

But I am making you read my scribbling, instead 
of directing your attention to something of greater 



MADAME CAMP AN 



93 



utility to you, and of higher interest to all. Read 
M. Guizot, on Justice, and on Political Influence. 
I believe I have not given you the proper title of the 
work. It was lent to me, and I read it from begin- 
ning to end, without ever laying it down. I returned 
it immediately, and I have forgotten the right title. 
However, the subject is what I have mentioned, and 
you may easily procure it. It will show you the 
mischief which the sanguinary Jeffries caused in 
England, by selling his judgments to despotic power. 
Read also the Memoirs of the marquess de Ferrie- 
res, on the Constituent Assembly. They are admi- 
rable. I never for a moment quitted the scene of 
the memorable events described by the Marquess^ 
and I can truly affirm, that I have not, during the 
last thirty years, seen any work on the subject, which 
can bear a comparison with these Memoirs. They 
afford an excellent clue for guiding the judgment 
through the extraordinary series of events of which 
they treat. Every one should make himself familiar 
with these events. They will be studied by our 
posterity, and placed on a parallel with the most re- 
markable crises of ancient history ; and yet how 
many young men of five and twenty enter upon the 
world unacquainted with the course of those inci- 
dents, the influence of which will long continue to be 
felt. The marquess de Ferrieres writes in a singu- 
larly pleasing and impartial style. The reader is led 
from the king's palace to the chambers, and from 
thence into the midst of popular commotions. When 
it is necessary to report speeches, just so much of 
them is given as serves to animate the interest with- 
out breaking the thread of the narrative, The Mar 
J 2 



^ 



LETTERS OF 



quess, who was a deputy of the nobility, retained 
' his place on the right hand side of the chamber. His 
pure integrity, elevated sentiments, and correct turn 
of thinking, qualified him to take the clearest view 
of the great picture exhibited before him. He ob- 
serves the faults of the right hand side of the assem- 
bly, the ambitious advances of the left, and in short, 
the errors of both parties, as though he were an un- 
concerned spectator looking down from the roof. 

This long letter, though an encroachment on your 
time, will at least serve to prove to you that time and 
misfortune have in no way diminished the tender in- 
terest which my heart has ever cherished for you. 
Let me impress upon your mind the necessity of 
reading. Without it, any education however excel- 
lent, will prove abortive. AH the learning acquired 
in the best schools, is merely like the piece of canvas 
stretched upon a work-frame : reading produces on 
the mind the effect which variegated silks and wors- 
teds impart to the canvass. A judicious course 
of reading will even make amends for a d.- fective 
education. But I miist conclude. Old age has the 
advantage of having seen much! but it is apt to fall 
into the error of saying too much. 

Accept a thousand assurances of my regard. 



MADAME CAMPAN. 95 

Draveil, June 18th, 1821. 

My dear Edmund,* 

You are now in Paris. Your mother, your dear 
aunt, and your uncles, have contrived all sorts of 
amusements for you during holiday-time. Holidays 
are given to children as a reward for their industry ; 
and on their return to school, good children shew 
their gratitude to their parents by resuming their 
studies with pleasure ; for in the meanwhile they have 
grown a little older, and as the understandings of 
young people are daily improving, they are every day 
the better able to learn. 

Little boys are shown many fine sights during their 
holidays. They are taken to the Jardin des Plantes, 
and there they are told : this tree was brought from 
Japan, that from South America, that from India, &c. 
Who brought those trees to France ? Men who sail- 
ed over vast seas to procure these treasures for us. 
Who cultivated them in our climate ? Men who have 
devoted themselves to the study of every branch of 
vegetable cultivation. 

You will see the fine colonnade of the Louvre, the 
Hotel of the Mint, the Palace of Louis XV., &c. 
Who constructed those noble monuments ? 3Ien 
who spent years in learning the science of architec- 
ture, and who visited Italy to see and admire the mo- 
numents which that country possesses. You will 
see beautiful statues. Who sculptured the marble 
so exquisitely, that the figures look like real flesh, 

• Thi« letter vas addressed by Madame Campan to her son, after she 
tiad left him Id Farie. 



96 LETTERS OF 

and the draperies like real dresses. 3Ien whose ta- 
lent has rendered their names immortal. You will 
see fine paintings which represent the persons of great 
heroes, and record their actions. All these things, 
are the work of diligent Jlen, 

You will perhaps be taken to the play, and may 
see one of those tragedies which draw tears from our 
eyes, and picture to us the misfortunes of kings, 
princes, and heroes. Who are the authors of these 
plays ? Men who pursued their studies diligently, 
and whose minds were penetrated with the beauties 
of the classic writers. But my dear Edmund 1 should 
never finish my letter, were I to describe to you all 
the beautiful and useful things for which we are in- 
debted to human labour. A little boy who is capa- 
ble of reflecting, should say to himself: — Wherever 
I go I see the productions of genius and industry. I 
am the beginning of a man ; and that I may hereafter 
be able to leave behind me honourable recollections 
in my dear coun!;ry, I must study as these illustrious 
men studied, when they were like me, only the begin- 
nings of men. Thus my dear Edmund, even while 
we are amusing ourselves, we may learn somethmg 
from what we see and admire. Your old and sincere 
friend at Mantes, feels assared that your own under- 
standing will lead you to make useful reflections. She 
is better than she was, and hopes to pass the winter 
with you and your mother, in her pretty house at 

MaDtes. She sends her love to vou. 

G. C. 



MADAME CAMPAN. 97 

t 

Zufich, July 2rth. 

My DEAR DAUGHTER, 

Ih'is letter will be a little volume, and it is wholly 
for you. I have already written to the worthy doc- 
tor, and I do not wish to excite any jealousy. You 
see how vain I am ! I was to have visited the abbey 
of Einsiedeln j but I caught cold in coming from Ba- 
den to Zurich, and my friends whom 1 met at the 
springs, together with the abbe Bertrand, set out on 
their pilgrimage without me. They have just arriv- 
ed, and they found the roads so exceedingly bad that 
they are glad my cowardice induced me to renounce 
the design of accompanying them. My old pupil 
is devoted to the strict observance of her religious 
duties : her misfortunes have made her feel the value 
of the powerful consolation afforded by prayer, and 
the hope of a happier world. It was he? Wian tO 

confess and to receive the sacrament at the abbey. 
She fulfilled her pious design ; but unfortunately 
caught a severe cold. 

1 could never have accomplished the pilgrimage 
to Einsiedeln. The road extends over mountains 
and rocks to the distance of three long leagues ; and 
there are but two places at which travellers can rest. 
The abbey is one of the most beautiful in existence ; 
indeed it may be said to be the finest, the richest, and 
the most frequented of any in Europe. It is calcu- 
lated that a hundred thousand pilgrims repair thither 
every year ; eighty thousand on foot and twenty 
thousand in carriages. 

It is no uncommon thing to see the whole inhabi- 
tants of some of the villages in the catholic cantons 



98 LETTERS OF 

of Switzerland, going in procession to Einsiedeln. 
You, perhaps, expect to be spared the description of 
the abbey ; but you mistake if you do. When I tra^ 
vel I must relate all I see and hear of ; so have pa- 
tience ', nothing will be omitted. 

Einsiedeln, or our Lady of the Hermitage, is situ- 
ated in the canton of Schweitz, nine leagues from 
Zurich, and twelve from the French frontier. Me- 
nard, Count of ZoUern, made choice of this roman- 
tic spot as the site of a little hermitage which he built 
for himself, and whither he retired and lived for the 
space of thirty years in pious meditation, secluded 
from all intercourse with mankind. The Count was 
murdered at the hermitage, in the year 862, and the 
place was deserted for twenty-five years after ; at 
which time another hermit, named Ebenard, inspired 
by pious resolution, retired to it. In course of time 
the hermitage became celebrated, and in the year 906 
the Emperor Otho founded the abbey of Einsiedeln, 
which he endowed with the extensive surrounding 
wastes, and also with some good lands, on the banks 
of the lake of Zurich. From that time the property 
of the abbey continued increasing, and in the fifteenth 
century its revenues amounted to a million of francs. 
At this peribd the abbot of Einsiedeln was made a 
prince of the empire. The abbey has subsequently 
lost a considerable portion of its landed possessions ; 
but it still continues very rich. It is a truly magni- 
ficent monument. I'he abbot's residence is a palace, 
in which persons of rank and distinguished pilgrims 
are received. I am truly sorry for not having visit- 
ed Einsiedeln ; but the calash was dragged from rock 
to rock, for the space of three hours, and the swelling 



MADAME CAMPAN. 99 

in my breast, which is still occasionally painful, 
might perhaps have been rendered worse, even 
though I had incurred no more serious danger on 
the journey. 

My old pupil of Saint-Germain, who has now per- 
formed this pilgrimage for the third time within the 
last three years, happened to observe, on the table at 
which I was writing, a memorandum containing a 
list of persons to whom I wished to take some ob- 
jects of piety, touched by the miraculous Virgin, who 
is devoutly worshipped by the good catholics of 
Switzerland. She carried the memorandum off by 
stealth, purchased every thing I had set down, and 
presenting them to me on her return. — .** here,^ she 
said, «* I have executed the commissions for your 
friends at Mantes." I am truly delighted with her. 
Divested, as she now is, of her dazzling and too 
evanescent splendour, she lives in a style of the ut- 
most simplicity, relieving the wants of the poor, and 
rendering herself beloved by all who know her. She 
is exactly the woman which her interesting childhood 
led me to expect she would be. She was my pupil 
at the time when the fear of the executioner's axe 
forced us all to be citizens of the republic : and I 
formed her youthf.ul mind without the most remote 
anticipation of the exalted and unhappy destiny for 
which she was reserved. At length, however, the 
vicissitudes of her life are ended ; and I am not a 
little gratified to observe, that the religious princi- 
ples which I instilled into the minds of my pupils, 
the talents which I taught them to cultivate, afford, 
under adversity, a source of consolation and amuse- 
ment. These are the blessings of an education 



ICX) • LETTERS or 

founded solely on the basis of religion ; and at the 
same time embracing all that is calculated to form 
the judgment and cultivate the mind. What re- 
sources it affords in mature age, and in those cases, 
unhappily too frequent, when interested society for- 
sakes us, because they have no longer need of our 
support, or because we are unable to offer them the 
pleasures which wealth once placed within our 
reach. 

The waters of Baden have proved beneficial to 
me j and the swelling in my breast is considerably 
decreased. Switzerland is full of physicians, who 
are reputed to be very skilful. I have consulted one 
at Zurich, and another at Baden. Their opinions 
corresponded with those of my medical advisers in 
Paris, and with that pronounced by your husband ; 
and I was gratified to find that in judging like 
Frenchmen, they judged correctly. I hope soon 
again to see my little abode in the Rue Tillerni, and 
my drawing-room looking to the south. But alas ! 
I shall never more behold that object whose loss my 
heart incessandy deplores ! 

I am lodged here at an excellent inn, the sign of 
the Sword, where I have been confined to my room 
through the fatigue I sustained during my journey. 
The apartment is, however, superb. It was recently 
occupied by the queen of Bavaria, who, with her 
sister, princess Amelia, and the two young prin- 
cesses, lodged at this inn during their stay in Zu- 
rich. The rooms are fitted up in the most showy 
style, after the Swiss fashion ; but, unfortunately, 
the beds are wretched, being nothing but straw ma- 
tresses. The inn is built on piles, and it is ap- 



MADAME CAMPAN. 101 

proached by a prodigiously wide wooden bridge, 
thrown across the lake, Zurich is an opulent city, 
and is now full of bustle, for the Helvetic Diet is at 
present sitting ; and the Landammans, Foreign Am- 
bassadors, and Deputies, are continually moving 
about. All this I have observed merely from my 
window. But what a window it is ! The beautiful 
and extensive prospect it affords has been painted 
and engraved, and the prints are sold in all the book- 
sellers shops in Zurich. I should have liked to en- 
rich my magic lanthorn with a copy of this engrav- 
ing ; but the charge of thirty francs forced me to re- 
press my wish. Travelling is very expensive, and 
if we did not resist the temptation of purchasing spe- 
cimens of all the different productions of the coun- 
tries through which we pass, we should not have 
money enough left to pay for our horses. However, 
I am collecting a few little articles, which may prove 
useful or agreeable to my friends ; for it is gratify- 
ing to enable them to say, she thought of me at Zu- 
rich, at Basle, or at Baden. Even my dear Edmund 
has been remembered ; but how could he be for- 
gotten ? 

Say every thing that is kind for me to dear Joseph 
and his little companion ; and forward the enclosed 
letter to madame Saint Phar. Present my compli- 
ments to M. and madame Jerville, to the countess 
de la Saumaise, and to M. and madame Meyer. Be 
sure to remember me to M, Bouillon. His attention 
to me at the moment when I was bereft of all I held 
most dear, will render me grateful to him during the 
remainder of my life. 

Madame Voisin is very well ; but she has been 
K 



10£ LETTERS, &:C. 

forced to relinquish the use of the warm baths, after 
a few trials. She was immediately attacked with a 
disorder which the Swiss call the poupee. It is a 
general eruption of the skin, produced by the warm 
baths. The Swiss consider this poup6e as very fa- 
vourable to the health ; but it is extremely inconve- 
nient, and has a very ugly appearance. I have es- 
caped it. Skilful physicians condemn the excessive 
use that is made of the vr^rm baths her^ Many 
persons remain as long as seven hours a day im- 
mersed in the bath ; leaving it to go to dinner, and 
returning again when the meal is ended. 



LETTERS 



FROM 



MADAME CAMPAK TO HER SOK, 



NOTICE BT THE EDITOR. 



The following letters contain the affectionate and 
judicious advice of a mother to a beloved son^ on his 
first entrance into life^ dictated by the wish to guide 
him in the path of duty ^ and to zvarn him against the 
dangers xvith xvhich youth is surrounded in its inter- 
course zuith society . In this correspondence Madame 
Campan mingles xvith her excellent instructions, her 
recollections^ observations and opinions , respecting all 
she formerly saw at the Court of France^ as zvell as 
the interesting events xvhich occurred during the kit' 
ter period of her lije. Her remarks on history^ on lite- 
rature^ and on the drama^ are alxvays sensible andxvell 
expressed. From the manner in xvhich all the xurit- 
ings of Madame Campan have hitherto been received^ 
it may confidently be anticipated that the correspon-- 



104 Xctice by the Ldiior 



dence ncxv published^ will excite that interest which 
can scarcely fail to be attached to letters -written by a 
woman of distinguished ability, for the purpose of 
forming the principles^ the understanding^ and the 
taste of a son whom she tenderly loved. 



LETTERS. 



23d Messidor, Year IX. 
My beloved Son, 

I addressed a few lines to you at Lyons ; but in my 
perplexity, I forgot the name of Monsieur #***#*. 
The individual whose name I unluckily substituted 
for the right one, felt, I presume, but little respect 
for a letter which would have afforded so much plea- 
sure to my Henry. This at least will follow you to 
Montpellier ; for you cannot receive it at Lyons. 

You are now, my dear Henry, removed from my 
fond care and instruction ; and young as you are> 
you have entered upon the vast theatre of the world. 
Some years hence, when time shall have matured 
your ideas, and enabled you to take a clear retro= 
spective view of your first steps in life, you will be 
able to enter into my feelings, and to judge of the 
anxiety which at this moment agitates my heart. 
When first a beloved child, releasing itself from its 
nurse's arms, ventures its little tottering steps on the 
softest carpet, or the smoothest grassplot, the poor 
mother scarcely breathes ; she imagines that these 
first efforts of nature are attended with every danger 
to the object most dear to her. Fond mother, calm 
your anxious fears ! Your infant can, at the worst, 
receive only a slight hurt, which, under your tender 
care, will speedily be healed. Reserve your alarmsj 
K 2 



106 LETTERS OF 

your heart-beatings, your prayers to Providence ; for 
the moment when your son enters upon the scene of 
the world to select a character, which, if sustained 
with dignity, judgment and feeling, will render him 
universally esteemed and approved ; or to degrade 
himself by filling one of those low and contemptible 
parts fit for the vilest actors in the drama of life. 
Tremble at the moment when your child has to 
choose between the rugged road of industry and in- 
tegrity, leading straight to honour and happiness ; 
and the smooth and flowery path which descends, 
through indolence and pleasure, to the gulph of vice 
and misery. It is then that the voice of a parent, or 
of some faithful friend, must direct him to the right 
course. But good counsel, reiterated constantly in 
the same tone, may prove wearisome to his ear ; 
while a thousand varied voices, melodious as those of 
the syrens, are tempting him to launch into the ca- 
reer which must prove fatal to his happiness. We 
are led into allegory in attempting to describe feel- 
ings by which we are powerfully moved. In short, 
my dear son, I implore for you the aid of experience, 
that tardy but excellent instructress, and all 1 hope is, 
that you may not pay too dearly for her lessons. 

I left Paris on the 7th, at six in the morning. On 
reaching home, I took a bath and lay down to rest in 
my closet, on the bed in which you used to sleep. I 
have not yet risen ; and I shall not leave this apart- 
ment without a feeling of pain. 

I shall write to you very often, for I wish to inform 
you of all I do, so that you may see me, as it were, 
reflected in a magic looking-glass. I shall address 
you as the dearest friend I have, and inform you of 



MADAME CAMPAN. lOr 

all my pleasures and my pains, my good and my bad 
fortune. In like manner unfold your heart to me j and 
you shall receive counsel when you stand in need of 
it. How many things I have to say to you ! 

Adieu ! my dear son j continue to love me ten- 
derly ; act so as to reflect honour on me and secure 
happiness to yourself. 

P. S. — Send me, I conjure you, every particular 
respecting your studies ; those which you are now 
pursuing, and those upon which you are about to en- 
ter ; and also on your public examinations. Sur- 
rounded as you doubtless are, by thoughtless and 
trifling companions, let your mother be the rallying 
point of your mind and heart; the confidant of all 
your plans. 

I shall have sufficient interest to establish you in 
the world, because I have maintained, and shall al- 
ways preserve, a useful and respectable character 
in society ; but I have not enough of that interest 
called favour, to raise you to eminence, unaided by 
your own exertions. 

I approve of the sentiments you express for a wo- 
man whom I esteem ; but experience convinces me 
that people who are fond of receiving attention, and 
who love personal importance without caring to do 
much to deserve it, are generally content with soci- 
ety inferior to themselves ; while on the other hand, 
those who are stimulated by the laudable ambition 
of rising in the world, seek to associate with their 
superiors. You have done the reverse this winter; 
but for so doing you have given me reasons, some of 
which are plausible, while others I have shewn to be 
insufficient and mappiicable. 



108 LETTERS OF 

Without any design of lecturing you, I send you 
these reflections, which occurred to me as 1 was 
walking about my garden. Reflect well on them. 
My duty is fulfilled in pointing out to you the course 
you should pursue in this world. Soon, that is to 
say, in a few years hence, the signal will be given 
for my departure hence ; but when one has to leave 
a son behind, life is always full of interest ; so true 
it is that paternity or maternity prolongs the pe- 
riod of our sojourn on earth. 



1st Thermidor, Year IX. 
Written in bed, at six in the morning. 
Yesterday evening, my dear son, Lecomte and I 
seated ourselves on the bench before my door, at the 
hour when the postman arrives with the letters. I 
hoped to receive one from Auxerre, but I was dis- 
appointed ; and I sorrowfully returned to my closet, 
with my hope deferred until this evening. My 
abode is now less busy than usual. The absence of 
all mv pupils, of madame Leftvre and my sister, ren- 
ders the place as solitary as the most retired spot In 
the country. But this tranquillity accords well with 
the melancholy and regret occasioned by the absence 
of my beloved son. I seated myself near the window 
of my library, and gazed with pleasure on the beau- 
tiful landscape which used to charm us both when 
we weie together, a few months ago. From my 
window I could also see the garden in which all the 
happiest moments of your childhood were passed. 
On reading this I know what affectionate recoUec- 



MADAME CAMPAN. 109 

tions will rush upon your mind, and transport you 
back for a time to your mother's home. 

You do not know, perhaps, that at Coubertin I 
took lessons in epistolary style, or I should rather 
say, I there learned to cherish the natural feeling 
which prompts us, when we write to those we love, 
to enter into details relating even to objects the most 
unimportant j for to the absent all is interesting that 
serves to revive the recollections of former habits. I 
received these lessons while I was patiently writing 
letters for the peasant women, to send to their sons, 
who had been called out by the requisition, to join 
our armies. One of these letters, I remember, was 
as follows : " I have to tell you, my dear Charles, that 
" the great plum-tree in front of our house, is this 
" year loaded with fruit ; that the hay-stack in the 
'< little meadow is at least five feet higher than it was 
*' last year ; that the great red cow has got a beauti= 
" ful black-and-white calf ; and that your god-mo- 
" ther, Marianne Colot, will soon be married to the 
" farmer's son." 

I used to trace these details with the pleasure 
which is experienced by the landscape painter, 
when he fixes on his canvass the simple feautures of 
a rural scene ; and I was convinced that these sim- 
ple epistles, Ucaciiptivc of purely natural sentiments 
and pleasures, must present a charm to every feeling 
heart. I will, therefore, my dear son, inform you of 
every thing that concerns me. I shall often lead 
you through my class-rooms, my cabinets, and my 
gardens. In thus bringing you home to me, I shall, 
in some degree, divert away the gloom which your 
absence diffuses around me. I shall make you 



ilO LETTERS OF 

think of your mother, whose thoughts are so fond- 
ly fixed on you ; and I shall banish from your 
susceptible, artless and inexperienced mind, any idea 
that nvight lead you to ruffle the calm and regular 
course of my life, and force me to mingle tears of 
sorrow with those which I shed in regret for your 
absence. 

In the first place, I must tell you that the most 
active repairs are going on in my house. The great 
dining-room is being newly painted, and my four 
class-rooms will, when finished, have an elegant ap- 
pearance. I am getting the blue room newly papered, 
as otherwise it would not have corresponded with 
the others. Since I am the victim of envy, only be- 
cause I am at the head of the first establishment for 
female education in France, I must endeavour to 
rise above the level whence I have been so unjustly 
attacked. When the motion of the carriage-wheels 
is impeded by ruts, the driver must make a powerful 
effort to extricate himself from the difficulty. For 
want of this useful energy, how many staffer them- 
selves to sink beneath the weight of disappointments 
and reverses, which, with a little resolution and per- 
severance, might have been but transiently felt. 
Never forget CTDubertin, and the bill of 400 francs, 
which was all I posbcssed in the world, when I ar- 
rived at Saint Germain. Reflect that this extreme 
distress was the fruit of imprudence on the part of 
your parents, rather than the result of the French 
revolution. Do not sufl'er your family, of which 
you are now the head, to sink again into a state of 
degradation and embarrassment. Consider that while 
you are raising your fortune on the honourable 



MADAME CAMP AN. Ill 

bases of economy and industry, you have the advan- 
tage of belonging to a family of old established re- 
spectability, who enjoyed distinguished considera- 
tion amidst a numerous court. One should never 
cherish silly vanity ; but it is proper to know how to 
appreciate advantages, which, though merely acci- 
dental, will, if rightly viewed, stimulate us to the at- 
tainment of personal and positive merit. 

Learn to know the value of money. This is a 
most essential point. The want of economy leads to 
the decay of powerful empires, as well as of private 
families. Lous XVL perished on the scaffold, for 
a deficit of fifty millions. There would have been 
no debt, no assemblies of the people, no revolution, 
no loss of the sovereign authority, no tragical death, 
But for this fatal deficit. States are ruined through 
the mismanagement of millions, and private persons 
become bankrupts, and end their lives in misery 
through the mismanagement of crowns worth six 
livres. It is very important that I should lay down 
to you these first principles of right conduct, and 
impress upon your mind the necessity of adhering to 
them. Render me an account of the expenditure of 
your money, not viewing me in the light of a rigid 
preceptress, but as a friend who wishes to accustom 
you to the useful habit of accounting to yourself. 

The marriage of M***** is still in progress. He 
is so extremely odd, that a few days ago I was al- 
most tempted to send him about his business. He is 
really verging on madness ; he does not know his 
own mind for two moments running. However, the 
idea of being married renders his intended wife 
pleased with him. I hope he will be able to perceive 



112 LETTERS OJ 

how much he gains in the possession of a meritorious 
woman. * 



1st Thermidor, Evening. 
My neighbour, Lefevre, being alone, I went to- 
day to dine with him, and to enjoy the beautiful 
prospect which his house commands, taking Hen- 
rietta Guillemot along with me. There, my love, I 
received your letter, and with what delight did I 
peruse it. I was much amused by your description 
of the full-dressed ladies ; but one must not conceive 
prejudices against people in the country, on account 
of the singularity of their dress. Recollect that wo- 
men may be intelligent, well educated and amiably 
though they cannot consult fashionable oracles like 
Leroi and mademoiselle Despeaux. 

To-morrow morning my balcony will be finished. 
. Present my remembrances to good M. Bastide, and 
^xny beloved Nina. Adieu, my dear Henry ; I send 
you a thousand kisses. 



13th Thermidor, Year IX. 
Yesterday I looked most impatiently for a letter 
from my dear traveller j but the messenger arrived 
without bringing a line from you. I passed a very 
uneasy night. I dreamed I saw you languishing in 
sickness. Methought you had met with an accident ; 
I knew not how ; but you were overwhelmed with 
sorrow at the idea of being obliged to stop short in 



MADAME CAMP AN. llo 

the career on which you have entered, and to re- 
nounce a profession which requires health and ac- 
tivity. The approach of day relieved me from these 
painful feelings. On awaking, I reached your por- 
trait, which is placed^ at my bed-side, and while I 
gazed on it, my heart poured forth the anguish 
which a fond mother feels in the absence of her be- 
loved son. But these melancholy thoughts gradually 
vanished, as the dawn of morning and the light of 
reason approached, dispelling at once the shades of 
night, and the clouds which enveloped my fancy. I 
unfold to you, my dear Henry, all my inmost 
thoughts and feelings, to enable you to see the place 
you occupy in my heart, and to convince you how 
entirely it depends on your conduct to render me 
happy and contented, or to plunge me into the abyss 
of affliction and regret. Happy the woman, who in 
old age can say : " I am the mother of a worthy 
man, a useful member of society ; and he, in his 
turn, will be the parent of a line of offspring who 
will never disgrace the honourable name they in- 
herit." How am I distressed to observe so many- 
young men of the present generation, condemned by 
silly pride to a kfe of inactivity, which must inevit- 
ably lead to ruin. I see the sons of illustrious fami- 
lies disdaining to accept employments beneath their 
former rank, and from aristocratic feelings, declining 
to bear arms in defence of their country ; thus doom- 
ing themselves to the sad alternative of prirading the 
streets of Paris, or if they can afford it, oraiTcing on 
horseback along the Boulevards, or in the Bois de 
Boulogne. Within the circle of my acquaintance I 
could enumerate, in the cast of the old nobility, sis 
L 



114 LETTLRS or 

K***'s, two B***'s,two M^**'s two G***'s, and 
three N**=^'s, who are now sunk into absolute in- 
significance, and plunged into disgraceful inactivity. 
If the laws of equality have deprived them of their 
privileges, the laws of honour should deter them from 
pursuing a course which renders them useless to 
their country. 



12th Fructidor, Year IX. 
My dear Henry, 
Eight long days must elapse ere you can receive 
this letter, in spite of my ardent wishes for its speedy 
arrival. Oh! that I could give it wings, that it 
might fly to my beloved child with the consolation 
and encouragement which I trust it will impart to 
him. The sensations you now experience, my dear, 
are common to all young persons of susceptible feel- 
ing, on their first separation from beloved parents ; 
but you must banish this melancholy, which, if in- 
dulged, w^ould degenerate into a weakness degrading 
to your sex, and deprive you of reason, courage, re- 
flection and activity. In the first place you must be 
aware that you could not remain with me without 
retarding the progress of your education, which 
could only be properly pursued in Paris. A man 
should seek to gain information by travelling, he 
must encounter and endure misfortune j contend 
agamst danger and temptation, and finally temper his 
mind so as to give it the strength and solidity of the 
hardest metal. All this cannot be effected in a se- 
dentary life. It is a man's business to direct, to form 



:1IADAME CAMP AN, 115 

and to defend his fortune ; it is a woman's task to 
obey, and to attend to her family and domestic af- 
fairs. The qualities suited to the female sex are so 
unfitted to men, that tht^ir utter condemnation is pro- 
nounced by the. term effeminate. 

Consider that you have now attaine I the age, 
when neither money, prayers nor tears could have 
saved you from being sent as a soldier to distant 
countries; where you must have carried heavy bag- 
gage on your back, and have encountered death at 
every step, not only on the field of battle, but amidst 
the fatigue Avhich has proved fatal to thousands of 
young men, who, like yourself, were nursed in the 
lap of comfort and competency. Praise God, my 
dear, instead of uttering complaints ; for without 
any feeling of bigotry, this habit of addressing our 
prayers and thanksgivings to a Power superior to 
any on earth, tends to elevate and enlarge the mind, 
to support us under affliction, and to render us hum- 
ble and unassuming in prosperity. 

Let me impress upon you the importance of at- 
tentive application to business ; for that affords cer- 
tain consolation, and is a security against lassitude, 
and the vices v/hich idleness creates. Besides, as I 
mentioned to you, in a letter which you must already 
have received, you are at Marseilles, solely with the 
view of completmg your commercial education. I^a- 
bour, therefore, diligently, to form your st} le, and 
your hand writing, and also to gain a knowledge of 
arithmetic. Having accomplished all this, you shall 
return and pass a few weeks with your mother, who 
will rejoice to see you advancing in the career of 
honour and prosperit\'. There is. a touch of apathy 



116 LETTERS OF 

in your disposition ; and perhaps you will scarcely 
believe me, when I assure you, that in this respect 
my own character resembles your's. But the artifi- 
cial strength which we exert from principle, and a 
sense of duty, increases our stock of natural strength. 

After t -ssing two or three months with me, it is 
my intention to send you to England, where new 
manners, a new country, and a language which you 
cannot fail to admire, will afford inexhaustible sources 
of pleasure to you. Once more, my dear Henry, I 
implore you, make a good use of your time. Send me 
the name of M*'^^^s chief clerk, and I will write 
him a letter which will, perhaps, help to increase his 
interest for you. Your second letter somewhat eased 
my mind respecting the coolness of M***. How 
can you have incurred his dislike ? A young man, 
on whose character the plodding of business has yet 
exercised no influence, is almost always sure to 
please in society. You hinted, once, at some un- 
pleasant conversation which occurred at table, and 
you have said not a word more on the subject. Tell 
me, tell your mother, without reserve, if any thing 
has happened to vex you. 

Your second letter is, however, consolatory. It 
describes you seated in a good post-chaise, with a 
travelling companion. How deeply am I interested 
in this companion. Is he agreeable ? above all, is 
he good ? Is he devoted to dissipation and idleness ; 
or is he intent on the pursuit of advancement and 
prosperity ? How anxious I feel to know this young 
man's character. Let me have a minute account 
of him. Be cautious how you form connexions ; 
and hesitate not to break them off on the first propo- 



MADAME CAMPAN. 11*^ 

sition to adopt any course which your affectionate 
mother warns you to avoid, as fatal to your real hap- 
piness, and to the attainment of that respect and es- 
teem which it should be your ambition to enjoy. 

My dear son, be a man, and steadily pursue the 
strait and certain course which leads to honour and 
happiness. It is not a smiling path j but at the jour- 
ney's end every reward and indemnity will await 
you. On the other hand, the career of vice is full 
of seductive charms. It is strewed with flowers, and 
smoothed by the fatal illusions of indolence and lux- 
ury ; while the smiles of beauty, and the deceitful 
favours of fortune, combine to intoxicate the unwary 
victim, and to impel him onward to the brink of the 
precipice whence he is hurled headlong, never to rise 
again. 

Your uncle is not here, and has no intention of 
coming. This is a mere idle tale ; but I have no 
doubt it was told you without any mischievous de« 
sign. I must now bid you farewel. This is Sun- 
day ; it is the festival of the Loges, and I have not 
been able to write a line without twenty interruptions. 
Adieu, then, my dear Henry, be prudent and dili- 
gent ; be attentive in the discharge of your duty, and 
join cheerfully in the recreations which are afforded 
you. Adieu ! once more. How painful it is to 
leave you ; but I will write to you often, very often 
be assured of that. 

Your nurse is here, and has delivered the letter to 
me. Dr. and madame Lecomte send their love to 
you. 



L 2 



118 LETTERS or 

14th Fructidor, Year IX. 
3It dear Son, 
I wrote to you yesterday, and this morning, and 
with undiminished pleasure I take up my pen to ad- 
dress you again. Your young heart feels the want 
of a guide like your mother, and by continual cor- 
respondence, I will endeavour to bring myself near 
you. M. Audibert is at 3Iarseilles ; find out where 
he lives, and give him the enclosed letter. It can- 
not but be gratifying to you, to behold the face of 
one whom you have often seen at Saint Germain, a 
frequent visitor at your mother's house. Besides, 
he will introduce you to some good families ; not 
that you may have the opportunity of idly wasting 
your time ; for you know too well that you are not 
at Marseilles, and absent from me for the sake of 
pleasure ; but these introductions will afford the 
means of passing your leisure hours agreeably, and 
will enable you to avoid the improper connexions 
into which a young man is always liable to be led by 
another young man, of whose character he is igno- 
rant. How anxious I am to know something about 
the companion of your journey. Is he well inform- 
ed ? Is he industrious ? What are his habits and con- 
nexions ? Answer all these questions, so important to 
a mother, who knows all the influence of early friend- 
ships. Alas! that I am not a man, since my only 
child mast pursue the course which the education of 
his sex indispensably requires ! How I wish that I 
could travel with him, guide him and stimulate him 
to the love of industry by my precepts, and above 
all by my example. To me this would be second 



MADAME CAMPAN. 119 

life ; the true enjoyment of existence. But the cares 
required in infancy, and in the tender years of child- 
hood, being once fulfilled, your nnother like all other 
mothers, can do no more than give you good advice. 
Oh ! may my counsel prove useful to my Henry, 
and may I, like my sister, one day justly pride my- 
self in the conduct of my son ! How happy shall I 
be when the chorus of general approbation salutes my 
ear ! Then I may sincerely say I have lived long 
enough, and I may commence a new career of exis- 
tence, to enjoy with you your happiness and prospe- 
rity. My dear son, when you peruse these lines, 
know that they come from the very bottom of my 
heart ;^-ihat the unstudied phrases, which flow rapid- 
ly under my pen, are dictated by the utmost warmth 
of maternal affection, 

I enclose a letter for M ^^'^, jun. Deliver it to 
him immediately. This young man is said to be ra- 
ther too much addicted to pleasure and company ; 
but there is a wide distance between his condition 
and your's ,; and while you are resolved to distin- 
guish yourself by industry, application, and other 
good qualities, there can be little danger uf your be- 
ing led astray. Consider any kindness you may ex- 
perience in the light of a favour, and not as an at- 
tention due to you. A young clerk can have no 
claim upon attention ; therefore divest yourself of 
all such ideas. Before you write to me, read over 
my letters ; they will serve to guide you in your an- 
swers. The distance which separates us makes me 
so anxious to hear from you, that I am distressed 
when you neglect replying to any of my letters. 
Tell me how you are accommodated with respect to 



12Q LETTERS or 

board and lodging. You knovr r.zw my heart locgs 
to know even' thing concerning you. Improve your 
hand- writing, and attend assiduously to business. 
Recollect that to whatever profession you might 
have devoted yourself, whether a soldier, a lawyer, 
a physician, a merchant, or a farmer, diligence is in- 
dispensably necessary to ensure success. 

I went to the Fair des Loges, where I was much 
amused. Madame de **** took me with her, in an 
e'c^rr: f ' eled carriage, where we rode at our 

ease, a~ . ; rrfect safety. The populace were 
very merry, but at the same time very orderly ; for 
there was not the least disturbance. The fair was 
graced by the presence of numerous Parisian beau- 
ties, dressed aja grecque. The amusements varied 
according to the different tastes and circumstances of 
the parties who partook of them. There was one 
group engaged io drinking, and at a little distance 
was another, swallowing ices. One party was seated 
on the grass^ feasting on a leg of mutton ; and others 
were regaling themselves with chickens and savoury 
pies. One was contentedly drinking a glass of 
wretched wine, while his neighbour was refreshing 
himself with an ice cream. All entertained thcm= 
selves in the best way their means would permit; and 
I was highly amused in contemplating the picture. 
But the hand of equality, which is felt by all, diffused 
intolerable clouds of dust, covering, without distinc 
tion, the elegant rose-coloured shawl, and the huii: 
ble blue cotton petticoat. 

Adieu, my dear son. The sketch of this pleasant 
rural scene must conclude my letter; but I cannot 
fold it up, without once more giving you assurances 



MADAME GAMPAN. l2l 

jf that ardent affection which must be visible in every 
line I trace, and which I can never, for a moment, 

cease to cherish for you. 



24th Fructidor, Year IX. 
My dear Henry, 

I have not yet received the letter which you en- 
trusted to the care of G**^. I have heard nothing 
of his return ; and I presume that, without bestow- 
ing a thought on me or Saint-Germain, he has made 
a visit to Paris, to enjoy the pleasures from which 
his brother withdrew him. 

Your last letter very much pleased me, and in- 
creased my impatience for that which was immedi- 
ately to follow it. I observe that your ideas are 
more accurately expressed, and more methodically 
arranged, than in your former letters. From amidst 
the tints which were confusedly mingled together on 
your palette, you have selected the proper colours 
for painting your sentiments and reflections with cor- 
rect effect. I see you will be able to write welU 
When you inform me of the manner in which you 
arrange your time, I will send you some books, free 
of carriage. In addition to the multitude of things 
with which the well-informed man should store his 
memory, it is necessary to direct attention to those 
acquisitions which are most immediately condusive 
to happiness ; and the art of writing with elegance 
and facility is certainly one of these. I shall send 
you a new edition of madame de Sevigne's Letters, 
and of Cicero's Letters to Atticus, together with two 



122 LETTERS OF 

Other volumes of the Epistles of that prince of ora- 
tors, who excelled in the art of rivetting the bonds of 
friendship by the charm of his correspondence, as 
well as in the power of moving the feelings, and ex- 
citing the admiration of his auditors in the senate. I 
know that you cannot devote any great deal of time 
to reading ; but you will easily see how much may 
be done by a just distribution of your hours, I do 
not disapprove of your occasionally enjoying a little 
recreation, with the two companions who have shewn 
such a wish to cultivate your acquaintance ; but do 
not make yourself the slave of pleasure. Endeavour 
to snatch a hw moments for the practice of drawing, 
in which you have already made so much progress. 
Never neglect to appropriate a certain portion of 
your time to useful reading ; and do not imagine 
that even half an hour a-day, devoted to that object, 
will be unprofitable. The best way of arranging and 
employing one's time is by calculation ; and I have 
often reflected that half an hour's reading, every day, 
will give one hundred and eighty hours reading in 
course of the year. Great fortunes are amassed by 
little savings ; and poverty, as well as ignorance, 
are occasioned by the extra\ again waste of money 
and time. My heart prompts me to give you counsel 
on every point in which your future happiness may 
be concerned. My affection for you, my dear Henry, 
is still as actively alive as when, in your infancy^ I 
patiently removed every little stone from a certain 
space in my garden, lest, when you first ran alone, 
you might fail and hurt your face on the pebbles. 
Bui the snares now spread beneath your steps are 
far more dangerous. They are strengthened by se- 



MADAME CAMPAN. 123 

(luction, and the ardour of youth would hurry you 
forward to the allurement; but that my watchful 
care, and the confidence you repose in me, serve to 
counteract the influence of this two-fold power. 
Your bark is gliding near a rapid current ; but your 
fond mother stands on the shore, and with her eyes 
fixed on her dear navigator, anxiously exclaims, in 
the moment of danger, " Reef your sails, mind your 
*^ helm." Oh ! may you never forget, or cease to 
be guided by these warnings, which come from my 
very inmost heart. 



28th Fructidor, Year IX. 
My dear Henry, 

I have just closed a packet of letters on which I 
have been engaged since nine in the morning ; and 
the sun is now sinking behind the mountain of Marly, 
exactly fronting the windows of my library, whence 
I am now writing to you. I am heartily tired, as 
you may suppose, but when once I allow my corres- 
pondence to get into arrear, I am obliged to doom 
myself to a day's penance, in order to clear my desk. 
It will be well if I retain my strength and activity a 
few years longer, for your future good, and to se- 
cure to myself a competency for old age, when the 
pure and resigned heart tranquilly awaits the ap- 
pioach of death, without, however, ceasing to feel 
interested in the scene of life, while it is still tied to 
the world by the bonds of affection. 

You have now entered upon your labours diligently. 
Advance steadily in your new career. You must 



124 LETTERS OF 

submit patiently to the discipline of the common 
soldier. Consider that in any profession, if you be 
determined, you may one day or other enjoy the 
fortune and distinction of those who are at the head 
of it. Determination is every thing ; it is the vehi- 
cle which constantly drives one forward without ever 
retrograding. I have seen J**^, and I think him 
very agreeable. In the first place he spoke of my 
son, whom he had seen more recently than I had ; 
this is always sure to please a mother ; and secondly, 
he informed me that you were well in health, and 
comfortably lodged. You must, by this time, be in 
possession of a quarto volume of my letters ; and the 
anxiety which has so much depressed me, ought to 
be at an end. I cannot understand the cause of this 
delay : you may judge of it from the date of my let- 
ters, in which I have always been punctual. 

Madame Lecomte is gone to Sussy, to be present 
at the marriage qf Armandine. She will, however, 
return this evening. Her absence has rendered my 
duty two-fold ; and therefore this letter must be 
brief. I hope to receive one from you this evening, 
and to learn that you are no longer disturbed by ap- 
prehensions respecting my health, which has been 
uniformly good. Adieu my love I 



8th Vendemiaire, Year X. 

Probably, my dear Henry, I am the first governess 

who ever ventured to say to a young girl of fifteen : 

** Miss, you are handsome, very handsome. I 

« choose to be the first to address this compliment 



madAaMe cam pan. 1:jj 

*' to you, because I shall add to it the assurance your 
" beauty will soon decay. In the duration of human 
<' life, beauty lasts no longer than the bloom of the 
*' rose, which we see fading in the evening, while 
<' we regret that we did not pluck it in the morning. 
" You are handsome, 1 say again, but I add, with 
•« equal truth, that you are silly, vain, giddy, igno- 
'< rant, and somewhat unfeeling. Remember that 
'< all these faults, instead of vanishing in a few years, 
" like your beauty, will increase with age, and be a 
«* torment to yourself, and to all connected with you, 
^* when your face will not retain a single handsome 
*' feature." 

This, my dear Henry, I said a few days ago to 
one of my pupils, whose name, were I to mention it, 
would add nothing to the force of the comparison 
which I am about to draw. I shall, therefore, say 
to my son, without the fear of inspiring him with 
misplaced or dangerous vanity : «' You are clever, 
*' my dear Henry, very clever. But let not this 
^' flatter you. Talent is almost always a fatal gift, 
" when unguided by prudence and industry. When 
«' it escapes from the control of reason and virtue, 
" it is a flame which, destroying every thing within 
*' its reach, and the thick smoke which it emits, dis» 
^* torts every object, and prevents us from seeing 
*' the road to happiness, if the flame be not employed 
'< to kindle the torch of reason, which can alone 
'< guide and direct us. Libertines, spendthrifts and 
*< gamesters, are almost all clever. My father used 
<^ to say, that in France, talent was to be found every 
*'• where ; but that like a bill of exchange, it was of 
" no value unless endorsed by reason." 

I like to use metaphors that are derived from 
IVI 



126 LETTERS Oi 

commerce, because it is my wish that all your ideas 
should be directed towards the ol)ject which ought 
exclusively to engage you. 

After this long preamble, I shall tell you that talent 
enables us to judge, to choose, and to foresee; but 
that young people of your age, if guided merely by 
hastily-conceived impressions, are continually liable 
to fall into mistakes. The facility of embellishing 
false ideas, and smoothing down sophisms, is one 
of the unfortunate results of ill-directed talent. The 
inconsequence of your reasoning sufficiently proves 
this. 

M. D^***'s parents, you say, are unfortunately 
circumstanced. You know well that you may, with 
a few exceptions, compare your own case with his. 
He is closely engaged in occupations which will, in 
a short time, render him master of all the knowledge 
requisite in the management of an extensiVe com- 
mercial concern. You yourself wish to possess this 
information ; you feel it to be indispensably neces- 
sary to your advancement ; but you shrink from the 
exertion which the acquisition of it demands. You 
must be aware, that a young man without fortune, 
and who is entirely dependent on the fruits of his 
mother's industry, should indefatigably pursue the 
means of providing for himself. If you do not 
anxiously look forward to the time when you may 
say : " I live by my own labour," I shall, my dear 
son, think you very inconsiderate, and I shall be 
grieved to see you make so ill a use of your under- 
standing. Remember, too, that it depends on your- 
self to avoid any thing like ill treatment, since your 
own conduct may, if you please, render you btloved 
and esteemed. Surely you ought to have no cau^ 



MA I) AMU ca:\ii^an. 127 

to sa)' ihey do not like me ; they are prejudiced 
ngainst me. People who are rich, powerful or proud, 
love to protect yourh ; it is only success or preten- 
sion that create enemies : they will not be wanting 
when you rise to prosperity. But an unsuspecting, 
modest and industrious joung man, possessing the 
advantage of premature experience, measures half 
his way to advancement in life, at the age when he 
naturally gains friends and patrons. 

IMay your mother's precepts conduct you to happi- 
ness ! Let me be the guide of your youthful years, 
and with pleasure I shall hereafter say : " You no 
** longer require my care ; be in your turn the guar- 
*< dian of my declining life." 

Yes, my dear Henry I will send you my portrait, 
painted jn the same manner as the doctor's likeness; 
and you will read in my eyes the expression of tbe 
love I cherish for you. 

I shall write to M. A^=^** to-morrow, to request 
that he will purchase you some books, for which I 
will pay him when I see him here. If you are very 
eager to get them, shew him this letter with a thou- 
sand remembrances From me. A^*"^* leaves Grig- 
non on the day after to-morrow. I will then send 
you every thing you want ; but he has been, for this 
month past, almost continually in the country. 

The minister of the Interior dined with mr } ester- 
day. All went oil as usual, with infinite compliments 
and expressions of admiration. My professors will 
be appointed, and all will have reason to be satisfied. 

You must, by tb.is time, be possessed df whole vo- 
lumes of my letters, every line of which breathes 
expressions oi' the warmest maternal affection. I 



i28 LETTERS OF 

once more reiterate my recommendation of assiduity, 

industry, and prudence. There is some talk of peace 
in Paris. What a happiness ! but the report has 
been so often circulated, that we can place no reli- 
ance on it. I am sitting in my library writing this 
letter, and I enclose it in a kiss, which I send off on 
the loveliest evening imaginable. Adieu ! 



loth Vendemiaire, Year X. ^ 
My dear Son, 
I wrote only a few lines to you yesterday, just for 
the sake of relieving your anxiety j and I am glad to 
find that the receipt of a letter from your mother is 
one of your greatest pleasures. You would wish to 
hear from me every other day. For my part I en- 
joy no happiness like that of corresponding with you; 
and the consolation of sending you letters, which, I 
trust, will prove useful to you, in some degree, les- 
sens the sorrow occasioned by your absence. 

I enclose two letters from your uncle ; I shed 
tears as I perused them, I find that honourable 
feelings of pride deter him from making certain ap- 
plications ; and I must therefore make up my mind 
never to see him more, or at least very seldom. The 
absent are not thought of by a newly established go- 
vernment : and the thousands of favours of which 
they can dispose, would require to be doubled, to 
satisfy the expectations of ail who have had a share 
in securing our extraordinary triumphs. The ser- 
vices of my brother are of older date than those of 
any other indiv.dual now living ; and though it is 
difficult to judge impartially where one's own inte- 



MADAME CAMPAN. 129 

r-esls are so nearly concerned, yet I feel that the go- 
vernment cannot be reproached for neglecting a man 
who is out of sight, and whose services preceded the 
period when the individuals, now in power, were 
called upon to exercise their important duties. If 
my brother were here, he would, I doubt not, be 
speedily rewarded as a man who might be usefully 
employed. But circumstances detain him elsewhere, 
and the tender ties of a wife and three children have? 
in some measure, naturalized him in a foreign coun- 
try'. You, my dear Henry, will, I hope, one day^ 
feel the power of these sacred connexions ; and the 
affection which you cherish for your mother, shews 
me what is to be expected of you in the characters 
of husband and father. Virtues are linked to each 
other ; and, unfortunately, vices are in like manner 
chained together. How happy is he whose condu-ct 
and attainments justly authorise him to enjoy the ti- 
tie of an honourable and well-informed man. He 
whose fortune is the fruit of his own labour, whose 
tastes are well directed, and whose mind is free from 
the influence of bad passions, certainly enjoys all the 
felicity which belongs to mortal existence. I there= 
fore conjure you, my dear son, to apply yourself ear= 
nestly to business, to correct the little faults of your 
temper. Indulge ev^ry enchanting dream of future 
happiness, for this is not only a source of present 
pleasure, but also a stimulus to future exertion. It 
is right to cherish the illusions of imagination, when 
they are directed to objects which tend to elevate the 
mind. The soldier, whose bosom is fired by warlike 
enthusiasm, may fancy, while sleeping in his bivouac, 
that he is beneath the damask tent of the general-in- 
chief J and he cannot conceive this idea, unaccom~ 
isl 2 



130 LETTERS 01- 

panied by feelings of exalted courage, and a sense of 
the duties required in the high rank to which his 
thoughts are directed. The young student in the 
Universities of Leipsick and Gottingen, who patient- 
ly pores over huge volumes, to make himselt familiar 
with the law of nations, and who stores his memory 
with the various treaties that have been concluded 
between belligerent powers, never thinks of being 
sent as ambassador to one of the great capitals of Eu- 
rope, except on the supposition, that he has sur- 
mounted all the difficulties that attend his progress. 
So it is with the young clerk in a commercial house. 
If he dream of possessing a house in the Rue Cerutii, 
or in any other part of the Chaussee d'Autin ; if he 
fancy himself the owner of an elegant country resi- 
dence, a few leagues from Paris, he is forced to go 
back to the point from which his imagination took 
wing, and reflect that it is only by dint of regularity, 
economy, intelligence and activity, that he can win 
the confidence requisite to ensure his advancement. 
Nature has given you a good letter of recommenda- 
tion ; namely, the power of pleasing: but she has 
endowed you with an unfortunate quality in your 
suspicious disposition, and your readiness to take 
offence. I will tell you a truth which you cannot yet 
know, from your own experience ; and this is, that 
a young man of sixteen has no enemies to fear,.-: 
People feel a pleasure in advising, supporting and^ 
protecting vouth. A man must be possessed of pow- 
er before he is assailed by rivals and enemies. You 
will have your's if you prosper in life. What will 
become of you then, since you fancy yourself an ob- 
ject of enmity, at an age when you must naturally 
inspire kindness ? At present, any rivals you may 



MADAME CAMPAN. 1:31 

have can only be on a level with yourself : they are, 
therefore, young ; and in youth any malevolent feel- 
ings, excited by ambition, are easily subdued by po- 
lite and friendly attention's. Such sentiments are 
more to be feared at a later period of life. 

I must also advise you to be less hasty in pro- 
nouncing your opinion of people. I do not like to 
hear you exclaim so rashly that this one is a fool, 
and the other a coxcomb. Form your own opinion, 
if you please ; but do not give it utterance, until time 
convince you that it is correct. How often will a 
generous action compel you to repent having bestow- 
ed the title of miser, on a man who may happen to 
be somewhat parsimonious in his habits. A well 
written letter, bearing proofs of infornnation and 
judgment, may force you to acknowledge that a 
timid young man, whom you may have beard awk- 
%vardly stammering out a few words, is not the fool 
which you presumed he was. In such casts, if you 
keep your opinion to yourself, the mistake is soon 
I'ectilied ; but if, on the contrary, you have promul- 
gated your rashly-formed judgment, how can you 
retract your indiscreet declarations in every quarter 
where you may be sensible they must injure the in- 
dividual to whom they relate. It is by reflections of 
this kind, my dear Henry, that you must endeavour 
to form your character, and to render yourself truly 
worthy of esteem. 



25th Vendemiaire, Year X. 
Endeavour, my dear son, to discover the cause of 
the coolness shewn by M***. I declare to you that 



132 LETTERS OF 

I never spoke of the hope you entertain to any one, 
except the doctor, who certainly is not the man to go 
to Paris and make acquaintance with iM**=^, for the 
purpose of relating to him a circumstance in which 
he himself could feel interf^sted only through his re- 
gard for you. Question yourself — have you com- 
mitted any mischievous trick ? Have you suffered 
any imprudent observations to escape you ? The les- 
son which you received at Neuilly, on your first en- 
trance upon the world, ought to have made a lasting 
impression on your mind. Have you shewn any 
aversion to business ? Have you been less diligent 
than you should be ? Have you given offence to any 
one ? Examine yourself closely, as if you were on 
confession ; and your heart being innocent, and your 
intentions pure, go straight to your friend and ex- 
plain yourself to him. If you find you have been 
in the wrong, shew that you have good sense and 
candour to confess your fawlt ; for none but fools 
refuse to acknowledge the errors they have com- 
mitted. Do this, and be assured that he who at first 
gave you so kind a reception, will not hesitate to for- 
give you, and to restore you to that friendship which 
is so essential to your present and future happiness. 
I wish I were near you at this moment, to comfort 
and encourage you. I have just received your letter, 
and though my sight is very bad, I sit down to answer 
it by candle-light. I fondly embrace you, my dear 
boy. I am as anxious to have a letter from you, as 
you are to receive this. I wish it could fly to you. 
Adieu, m.y dear Henry. Be not downcast or impa- 
tient. Let your conduct be correct, and continue to 
love your mother, who adores you. 



MADAME CAMPAN, 133 

10th Frimaire, Year X. 

1 have just received your letters, dated the 29th 
Brumaire, and the 1st Frimaire, I assure you, my 
love, the melancholy tone in which you write has se- 
riously distressed me. Whenever I understood that 
M. Cachard was coming to Paris, I concluded that 
you would be solitary and comfortless. As to my 
wish, as to the happiness I myself should enjoy in 
pressing you to my bosom, I banish the fond idea, 
when I reflect that the journey would oblige you to 
suspend, for the space of two months, your arithme- 
tical lessons, which are so important in the occupa- 
tions in which you are daily engaged, A prudent 
mother, who looks to her son's real interests, wil- 
lingly resigns herself to these sacrifices of affection, 

I can very well conceive the enthusiastic spirit 
which animated the Roman matrons. Had you en- 
tered the army, I would have wished you to raise 
yourself to distinction, at the hazard of your life. 
In the commercial profession, it is necessary that 
you should labour diligently in youth, to enable you 
afterwards to live at ease, instead of being tied to the 
desk to post your ledger in a heated counting-house. 
Fortune helps us forward in the first step; but industry 
enables us to attain the second. Fortune may favour 
us again, it is true ; but if we trust to her aid alone, 
we shall only go limping forward, and be in constant 
danger of falling. I must certainly acknowledge, 
that fortune has helped me in my establishment j but 
at present I must depend on my own efforts. Yes, 
in spite of my advanced age, I find it necessary to 
exert myself more than ever, and zealously discharge 
the duties of my situation. Never allow yourself to 
be disheartened, my dear Henry. 



134 LETTERS or 

While I write this letter, I am fitting in the place 
which you say is so often present to you in idea. 
My sister is seated before me, in the arm-chair next 
the side-board. She has just broken open a letter 
from Lucien, in which she reads the following pas- 
sage :*— '< 1 he drum is now beating as the signal for 
'* embarkation. We are all in the midst of confu- 
** sion. In an hour hence we shall be at sea, con- 
♦* signed to the chances of that uncertain element. 
" You need not expect to hear from me WTthin less 
'' than four months." INly sister is bathed in tears, 
and I cannot rt- frain from weeping. Such, my son, 
is the fate of mankind : when once the years of 
childhood are past, we must prepare for laborious 
exertions and painful vicissitudes. Learn to behave 
like a man, since nature has placed you in that dis- 
tinguished class of the human species. Do not de- 
plore the want of friends of your own age. It is bet- 
ter that you should have a friend older than yourself; 
therefore cultivate the friendship of M. Cachard. 
Your uncle's indifference for youthful companions 
proved of great advantage to him. 

Madame ***** is an excellent teacher ; just such 
a one as I want. \Vrite to her on this subject. 

Do not think about plays, or anything which may 
distract your attention from business. Answer all 
my questions punctually. Adieu, my dearest son, 
my pride, my future happiness, adieu. 



Vendemiaire, Year X. 
This letter is endorsed in the hand writing of 
madame Campan's son : Vertdtmiaire^ from iruj m' 
ther. 



I^IADAME GAMP AN. l^J 

My de \r Henry, 
1 am very much pleased with what you tell me 
respecting the intentions of M. Cachard, and the 
continued marks of friendship which you receive 
from M. Bastide. They both seem inclined to pro- 
tect you against any unkind treatment. Profit by 
the lessons you receive from the individual who has 
been chosen by M. Bastide, and who, though haughty 
and pedantic, nevertheless possesses a knowledge of 
the particular branch of business which you are pur- 
suing. It is most essential that you should acquire 
information on a subject on which your prosperity 
depends. At this moment I feel particular satisfac- 
tion in looking forward to your future success ; for 
my advanced age and the impediments which per- 
sonal jealousy throw in my way, almost deprive me 
of the hope of increasing my fortune. Indeed, it is 
not unlikely that after all the fatigue and trouble I 
have suffered, my old age may require the support 
of filial affection. A vexatious circumstance, arising 
out of the malevolence of the world, has just now 
occurred to me. A lady of Lille, who has corres- 
ponded with me about six months, being pleased 
with the plainness and candour of my letters, and 
with the account I gave her of my plan of education, 
lately wrote to me as follows : *' At length I am pre- 
•^ paring to depart for Saint-Germain, where I shall 
'^ enjoy the pleasure of seeing the amiable and vir- 
'< tuous woman, to whose care I am about to confide 
<^ all I hold most dear. I shall have the happiness 
'* of seeing the object of my tenderest affection, 
" grated with every eatimable qualification of mind 
'* and heart. I am now in the midst of all the con- 
*•* fusion necessarily attendant on my approaching de- 



136 LETTERS or 

<' parture from home ! but 1 am delighted at the 
*« thought of becoming acquainted with so amiable 
" a woman as you, &c.'' 

The letter was filled with expressions of the warm- 
est regard. The lady arrived in Paris, and having 
got introduced to a set of people hostilav,^ me and 
my establishment, she suddenly changed her mind, 
alleging, among various groundless excuses, that her 
income would not enable her to place her daughter 
under my tuition, and she never even came to see 
the woman whose letters, she declared, had com- 
pletely won her heart. I have experienced so many 
similar instances of malevolence from various quar- 
ters, that I cannot help thinking society is now more 
depraved than ever. But happily I am occasionally 
rewarded by the approbation of the "real lovers of the 
arts and education ; and by reflecting that the moral 
prmciples which I inculcate in the minds of my pu- 
pils, cannot fail to render them exemplary women, 
whose conduct will reflect honour on my old age. 
This is my greatest consolation, next to that of pos- 
sessing a son, the only surviving remnant of a family, 
whose situation at court, and the part which I was 
there required to act, have, in a great measure, 
caused, the numerous attacks with which I have 
been assailed during life. Court favour is oftener a 
misfortune than a blessing, owing to the envy which 
it constantly excites. Make no mention of these 
disclosures and complaints, which must be kept se- 
cret, if we would not add to the triumph of the 
wicked, and even promote their success. But it is 
gratifying to unbosom one's feelings to a beloved 
son, and thus to ease the burden that oppresses one's 
heart. INI. Dubreuil also administers consolatioQ to 



MADAME CAMPAN, 137 

me ; his pure philosophy enables me to bear up 
against the many vexations to which I have been 
exposed since the return of the priests and emi- 
grants ; for within the last eight or ten months I 
have been assailed with unusual severity. The party 
spirit at present prevailing is sufficiently manifest, 
from a recent article in a journal, written by an ec- 
clesiastic. It is there observed, with all priestly 
charity, that the restoration of the nunnery of Saint- 
Thomas, at Saint-Germain, will doubtless do away 
with those fashionable, showy, and impure establish- 
ments, in which all the morality of education is de- 
rived from romances. How lamentable it is to see 
party spirit thus pervert the understanding, and un- 
dermine every principle of justice ! I was first perse- 
cuted by the philosophers, whose opinions bordered 
on atheism, for having in my establishment respected 
religious opinions, and maintained the observance of 
pious worship, divested of monastic superstition ; 
and I have since been tormented and calumniated 
by intoUerant bigots, who in the name of a God of 
peace, would consign to damnation all w^ho do not 
profess the Catholic faith. The medium between 
these violent opinions and sentiments is certainly the 
course which true virtue and prudence suggest. 
But there is no satisfying people who are controled 
by furious passions. One must be content to endure 
their hostility on all hands. I would not enter into 
these details, my dear Henry, but because they may 
enable you to form some just ideas respecting the 
world on which you arp now about to enter. 



V N 



138 LETTERS OF 

14th Brumaire, Year XI 
My dear Henry, 

I will communicate to you all the reflections which 
have at diflferent times occurred to me on the subject 
of conscience. It is a matter which demands deep 
consideration ; and I shall be glad if my ideas re- 
specting it correspond with those which you have 
yourself formed. 

Conscience is one of the most extraordinary cir- 
cumstances of our moral existence ; and the attentive 
consideration of it, is alone sufficient to check impi- 
ety. It is a divine sentiment, which always acts in a 
way distinct and separate from our passions : it can- 
not subdue them unaided by reason, but it never fails 
to appeal to man, even at the moment when he is in- 
fluenced by the delirium of passion. The old Catho- 
lics, who borrowed from other religions the idea of 
personifying the virtues and vices, represented con- 
science and the passions as a good and a bad angel, 
always opposed to each other, with respect to human 
actions, though the operations of both are equally felt 
by man. There cannot be a more correct image. A 
writer of fairy tales has described a young prince, 
whose guardian genius presented him with a ring, 
enclosing conscience, which stung him whenever he 
was about to commit a bad action.. The pious mo- 
ralist contents himself with exhorting us to listen to the 
voice of conscience: thus we say, conscience speaks, and 
the expression is perfectly correct. What must be the 
power of that inward voice when it is heard by the n)ur- 
derer, about to imbrue his hands in the blood of his fel- 
low creaturej or, when it appeals to the profligate, who 
with the help of a few pieces of ivory, would sacrifice 
his own and his wife's fortune, and deprive himself of 



MAUAME CAMP AN. 139 

the means of educating and maintaining his young 
family ! Conscience never leaves the guilty at rest, 
though their crimes be unknown to all, save them- 
selves. It banishes sleep from the down pillow ot* 
the tyrant ; and not even the stillness of his curtain- 
ed couch and carpeted chamber, can lull him to re- 
pose. Tranquillity of conscience eases the anguish 
of the man unjustly accused, and gives him fortitude 
to bear unmerited punishment. Hypocrites fancy 
they quiet their conscience by a temporary confes- 
sion of their sins ; but the minister of God vainly 
grants them absolution, if they be not resolutely de- 
termined in future to avoid the snares of vice. Their 
real conscience cannot surely be at ease. The truly 
good and devout look for the reward of their purity 
of conscience, in another and a better world. The 
timid see the punishment of an evil conscience in the 
torments of heil, and this terror has probably a salu- 
tary effect on many. The truly honest man is not in- 
fluenced either by the opinion^ of the world, or 
by the hope of future reward, but by the con» 
sciousness that he is acting right. This feeling 
regulates his whole conduct, and if he scrupulously 
obey the dictates of his conscience, he v^ill cer- 
tainly be happy. This, my dear son, is all I 
have to say to you on the subject of conscience. I 
doubt not, my dear Henry, that while you have been 
slumbering on your pillow, the voice of conscience 
has sometimes addressed you thus : Come, my boy, 
it is time to rise. The chief clerk is already at his 
desk ; he will remark your indolence ; and remem- 
ber, it is only by dint of activity and attention that 
you can gain esteem. Your fortune depends on di- 
iigence» Think on your mother, and on the happi<- 



140 LETTERS OF 

ness which yoa good conduct will afford her. li 
you do not actively exert yourself, you will have 
ihe misfortune to see your parent doomed to labour 
at that advanced age when she would require le- 
pose Is not this what conscience has whis- 
pered to you ? You see, my dear, I have considered 
the subject in every point of view. 

As to the sentiment by which conscience is ex- 
cited, it must be ranked among those feelings which 
are ever present in the mind, though we are unable 
to account for them, and which have a useful influ- 
ence on our happiness, if they serve to check our 
presumption and arrogance. Man is the only being 
who possesses a perfect knowledge of right and wrong; 
and this consciousness he doubtless owes to, the su- 
perior organization with which his Maker has en- 
dowed him. But I have given you enough of mo- 
rality. This letter might have been made the vehi- 
cle of many metaphysical ideas ; but I have replied 
to you with the plainness of a woman who has no 
pretension to philosophy. 

I will now tell you about the fine picture which 
has recently been painted by the younger Guerin. 
Proposals were made for purchasing it, to send 
abroad ; but it appears that our government will not 
suffer it to go out of France. It is, indeed, a picture 
which reflects credit on the French school, and is 
truly extraordinary, as the production of so yoimg 
an artist. The day before yesterday, madame Louis 
kindly sent her carriage and four to take me and 
some of my pupils to see this admirable picture. We 
afterwards dined with her, and at seven in the even- 
ing 1 was home again, and seated on the sofa in my 
closet, resting, after the fatigues of the day. I will 



MADAME CAMPAN. 141 

give you a description of Guerin's picture, endea- 
vouring to convey to you an idea of the impression 
it produced on me. The composition is chaste and 
simple, the colouring true to nature, the draperies 
rich and elegant. A light grey back-ground repre- 
sents the walls of the chamber of the palace in which 
the scene is supposed to take place. On the right 
are three columns, partly shaded by grey drapery, 
suspended from the one to the other ; and in front 
of this drapery is a superb couch, on which The- 
seus and Phaedra are seated-, Theseus is looking 
steadfastly at Hippolitus, against whom the accusa- 
tion has just been made, and who occupies the left 
of the picture. The head of Theseus is powerfully 
expressive of indignation, mingled with the grief na- 
tural to a father on discovering the guilt of his son. 
His right hand, which is strongly pressed upon his 
knee, indicates, by the powerful working of the mus^ 
cles, the painful feelings which agitate his mind» 
His left arm is thrown round the neck of his guilty 
wife, and the hand, gently resting on the shoulder 
of Phaedra, seems to denote the protection which he 
afifbrds to the adultress, Phaedra, pale and languid^ 
and her eyes swoln with weeping, has just delivered 
the accusation. She holds in one of her thin, but 
not withered hands, the sword of Hippolitus, which 
seems to start out of the picture. Her constrained 
attitude attests her compunction of conscience, and 
the attentive spectator plainly perceives that she leels 
herself unworthy to sit beside a husband whom she 
has so basely dishonoured. Her agitation is observed 
by the detestable (Enone, who. kneeling beside the 
cotifieh, closes the picture on the right. This figure, 
which seems a personification of vice, has her eyes 

N 2 



142 LETTERS OF 

fixed on the queen, on whom she glances a look of 
encouragement, at the same time pressing her finger 
to her lip in token of silence. The countenance of 
Phsedra presents traces of former beauty. Her dress, 
and her braided hair, which have been arranged by 
the hands of her women, form a striking contrast 
with the evident agitation of her mind. It is easy 
to perceive that she feels no interest in these out- 
ward decorations, and the spectator may almost 
fancy he hears her say : — 

"Que ces vains ornemens, que ces violes me pesent ! 
*' Quelle importune main, en formant tous ces nosuds, 
*' A prissoin sur mon front d'assembler mes cheveaux ?" 

The opposite side of the picture is occupied solely 
by Hippolitus : and here every thing is expressive of 
innocence, tranquillity and purity of mind. The 
youth who is standing before his father, is represent- 
ed with the beauty of the Apollo Belvedere. It is 
not exactly an ideal figure, though it is such a one as 
is never seen in nature. His dress consists of a su- 
perb lion's skin. He is resting on his bow, and 
holding the leash of two beautiful grey-hounds, which 
form an elegant group ; one lies sleeping at his feet 
like an emblem of tranquillity and innocence. The 
blush which suffuses the countenance of Hippolitus, 
as well as the expression of his features, are pow- 
erfully expressive of the shame he feels for the crime 
of his step-mother, and the mingled feelings of con- 
tempt and respect which compel him to remain si- 
lent. He seems to say ;— 

*' Approuvez le respect qui me ferme la bouche." 

I forgot to mention, that between the figure of Hip- 
politus, which, from its interest and completeness, 
occupies one half the picture, there is a small antique 



MADAME CAMPAN. 143 

table, on which are placed the helmet and sword of 
Theseus. This part of the picture is exquisitely 
finished. The drapery of Theseus is scarlet, trimmed 
with gold ; that of Phaedra is a robe of fine linen, 
and a mantle of a yellowish grey colour, resembling 
in texture the beautiful Vigonia shawls, which are 
at present so much worn by the ladies in Paris. 
Having once seen this picture, one sees it for ever, 
and in giving you this description of it, I have merely 
traced out objects which are still visibly present to 
me. Since it has been exhibited, the saloon has been 
crowded beyond all conception. The works of the 
old masters are not looked at. Not a glance is be- 
stowed even on Duguet's picture, which is a pro- 
duction of such superior merit, and which is now 
rendered additionally interesting by the portrait of 
the painter being hung next to it, crowned with lau- 
rel by our young artists. The most laughable re- 
marks are made upon Guerin's picture, by persons 
who are attracted to the saloon, merely because 
others go. A few days since, a man, examining the 
figure of Hippolitus, said : — " I see nothing so won- 
derful in this ; it is not at all like Saint-Phal." Tru- 
ly it is not ; and this dissimilitude must embarrass 
the actor, even more than it surprised the connois- 
seur ; for Phaedra is acted every evening. 



9th Ventose, Year XI. 
My dear Henry, 
You inform me that your attention to business has 
called forth approbation. This at once reconciles 
me to you j for I know I may implicitly rely on 



144 LETTERS or 

your sincerity. — Let me but hear from the mouth of 
jVI ##* these gratifying words ; " I am satisfied with 
Henry ; he will do well." The music of Esther, 
which all Paris has compared to the harmony of the 
celestial spheres, was never listened to with more 
rapturous delight than this assurance will convey to 
your poor mother. 

Think on my past misfortunes, and on my truly 
unhappy marriage. Do not, I conjure you, deprive me 
of the consolation which I am entitled to expect from 
you, and which alone can soothe my heart. Let me 
have to say I am the mother of an honest and res- 
pected man, and I shall die happy. I was dis- 
pleased with you ; but I am reconciled. Write to 
me and tell me every thing. I will send you a long 
letter to-morrow. 



rth Floreal, Year XI IL 

******** 
Now for your dissertation. Endeavour to pro- 
cure 2L work which w^as the subject of much discus- 
sion about thirty years ago. It is the production of 
a woman of considerable talent, and of a singular 
turn of mind, who was connected with Bertin ; the 
Chevalier must therefore have known her. The 
work is entitled Doubts on received Opinions. The 
time-servers of the day joined in crying down this 
feminine production, I dare say the edition which 
was published in a small form, is now out of print ; 
for every body was anxious to procure a copy of it. 
The work concludes with a very well drawn parallel 
between public and private education j and the au- 



MADAME CAMP AN. 145 

thoress is decidedly favourable to the tbrmer. I was 
very much startled on reading it ; for I then thought 
that private education was the preferable plan, and I 
found my opinions ably refuted. 

Read what La Harpe says respecting the tutors of 
Fabre d'Eglantine. Though he treats the question 
of education only with respect to the mistaken system 
of Rousseau, and the superficial ideas of society in 
general, yet he makes some good observations on the 
subject of colleges, and the salutary effect of public 
education. Read also Marmontel's volume relating 
to his college ; but I particularly recommend to you 
the work which I first mentioned. 

The power of education is to be your war-horse, 
and you must make it pace about in every direction. 
It consists in the necessity, the habit of overcoming 
difficulties, which forms the character and ensures the 
acquisition of information. This habit stimulates 
the mind to solitary exertion, to reflection, and to 
perseverance j and it inspires that emulation devoid 
of jealousy, which animates the youthful heart with 
the desire of triumphing by real merit. It shows 
the impossibility of obtaining success by artifice, or 
by any other means than labour. It discovers to us 
our own weakness and the superiority of others, and 
thus enables us to forma just estimate of our own 
value. It serves to humble pride, without stifling 
ambition ; and excites those self-exertions on bases 
simply traced out, by which alone character can be 
formed, and which are the sole source of true talent 
and genius. We can obtain no real success t^^xcept 
by our own individual efforts. It is this spirit of self- 
exertion which confers the stamp of merit on all hu- 
man productions. 



146 LETTERS OF 

All that is done under the immediate guidance c 
a master, must unavoidably bear traces of feeblenes- 
which can never be concealed. . The work may be 
highly polished and exquisitely finished ; but it can= 
not be animated by the light of genius, and it will 
consequently be tame and cold. The difference be- 
tween works so produced and those that are invigo- 
rated by solitary exertion, is similar to that which 
exists between hot-house fruits and fruits of natural 
growth. They may also be compared to the artificial 
gems so ingeniously produced in the laboratory of 
the chemist : they present not the brilliancy of the 
diamond, which is formed in the bosom of the earth 
without the aid of human art. If nature offers these 
comparisons, all that is connected with art serves 
but to demonstrate, still more evidently, that man 
must be formed by himself alone, guided by proper 
rules, and excited by the wish and the desire to suc- 
ceed J but not constantly followed and supported by 
a protecting hand. 

The well instructed actor, who correctly seizes 
the various intonations dictated by his master, may 
enjoy temporary success ; but it is only by his own 
personal labour that he can rise to the first rank of 
men of talent. It is not repeating the parts of Aga- 
memnon and Pyrrhus, even after Le Kain himself, 
that will render him a great tragedian ; he must 
carefully read Homer, iEschylus, Sophocles, and 
Euripedes ; he must study human passions, and cal- 
culate the efftcts to be produced by his various ges- 
tures and modulations of voice. A painter, after 
learning the first principles of design, and studying 
the form of the human figure, is indebted to his own 
studies for excellence in composition, style and co - 



MADAME CAMPAN. 147 

louring. Labour, excited by emulation, is in all 
cases superior to the best lessons that can be received 
from masteis. 

The spirit of emulation which exists in public 
schools ; the day of triumph that is annually cele- 
brated ; the prizes which are distributed as the 
honourable rewards of merit; the tears of joy shed 
by a fond mother ; all these things are remembered 
with pleasure by the man in after life. Is there any 
thing in private education to balance their advan- 
tages ? 

If private education be conducted on a rigid plan, 
it becomes tyrannical ; for it is not assisted by the 
punishment so sensibly felt on account of its publi- 
city, or by that tacit chastisement arising out of the 
privation of reward, which is attended by real mor- 
tification, unaccompanied by any degrading feelings. 
The private tutor is compelled to resort to incessant 
reproof, and to accumulate the privation of little 
pleasures connected with the common habits of life 
and the recreations of society. Understanding, 
judgment, and genius, all must suffer by this plan. 
There is nothing great either in the reward or punish- 
ment. A youth educated in the bosom of his own 
family, gifted with natural endowments, and con- 
signed to the care of an intelligent tutor, may cer~ 
tainly make considerable progress in education ; but 
the praises bestowed on him, will, to a certainty, 
exceed his merits. Counting on a superiority, of 
which he cannot competently judge, because he has 
not had the opportunity of measuring himself with 
others, and spoiled by extravagant fondness and flat- 
tery, he will enter upon the world with unbecoming 
confidence and assurance ; and he will have to do in 



148 LETTERS OF 

society what he should have done in the progress oi 
his education, namely, to serve an apprenticeship to 
the superiority of others. Who were the tutors of the 
illustrious men whose talents reflect honour on 
France ? Who formed Corneille, Racine, Boileau, 
Voltaire, Buffon, &c. They were educated in col- 
leges. 

Public education is most favourable to health, to 
moral principle, and to the acquirement of those 
useful habits which insure fortune and prosperity : in 
short, it combines every advantage in forming the 
character of a young man. His limbs are invigorated 
by athletic games, he learns to be temperate, and he 
relishes a simple meal with an appetite prepared by 
exercise and regularity. He serves himself, and 
therefore is not, in youth, the slave of those artificial 
wants which swallow up fortunes, and create a thou- 
sand idea^derogatory from the true dignity of man. 
It is in the halls of colleges, amidst wooden tables 
and benches, that pure friendship has raised her al- 
tar ; and where she rivets those sacred compacts 
which constitute the charm of existence, by soothing 
our sorrows and augmenting our enjoyments. Hence 
arise those sentiments which are founded on the per- 
fect intimacy of simple and sincere hearts, and which 
survive every vicissitude of fortune. Two boys, 
who are seated on the same form at school, compo- 
sing their themes ; who assist and advise without 
injuring or imitating each other ; who are mutually 
gratified by the rewards, and mortified by the re- 
proofs they receive ; — these boys, will, in course of 
time, enter together upon the world. The one is 
perhaps favoured by fortune, and endowed with rank 
and power, but still his friend is his first thought. 



MADAME CA-Mi'As. 149 

The other may be the son of poor parents ; but the 
distance which the laws of society seems to establish 
between them, vanishes on the recollection of their 
school-boy intimacy. Without losing the title of 
friends, the one becomes the generous patron, and 
the other the faithful and grateful protege; and their 
respective situations are still more favourable to mu- 
tual friendship, assistance and service. Feelings of 
this kind engraven on youthful hearts, at a period 
when pains and pleasures were shared in common 
with each other, generally endure through life. 
The young man, who from his childhood is sur- 
rounded by the seduction and artificial forms of so- 
ciety, can never enjoy the happiness of ^nowing and 
choosing a real friend. 



Friday, 2d Prairial, Year XI. 
During the last three days, my dear Henry, I have 
five or six times sat down to write the letter which I 
am now about to send to you ; but I have had so 
many visitors, and at such early hours, that I have 
been continually interrupted. I must tell you about 
Esther, which the journals are so full of at present. 
The piece has been performed with the most decided 
success, in spite of the censure which was poured 
upon it by the critics, when after the death of madame 
de Maintenon, who had forbidden its representation, 
the Regent ordered it to be acted at the theatre 
Fran^ais. On Sunday, Esther is to be performed 
with great splendour at Saint-Cloud, before the 
First Consul. With regard to the acting, I must 
tell you, that Adile's performance was infinitely the 
best during the first act j that the joy she evinced on 
O 



150 LETTERS Oi 

again beholding Elise, and her graceful manner of 
delivering the prayer, were vastly superior to the 
continued whining of mademoiselle Duchenois, who 
carried the defect so far as even to weep while she 
explained: <« jzur trois fois heureux T^ Was it 
necessary that Racine should have written, O jour 
six fois heureux ! to make her feel that the arrival 
of Elise, in the palace of Ahasuerus, was a moment 
of rapturous joy to Esther ; probably the only hap- 
piness she had enjoyed since she herself entered it ! 
The sublime Racine has contrived a most happy- 
contrast, by making the imposing scene of Morde- 
cai immediately precede the happy meeting of the 
two young friends -, and the actress should at least 
have seized the idea of the writer, who is so per- 
fectly master of the art of painting opposite senti- 
ments. After this criticism on the first act, I must 
tell you, that the performance of mademoiselle Du- 
chenois, in the second, and particularly in the third 
act, was most astonishing, and that she left the young 
pupil at an unmeasurable distance behind her. As 
to her perpetual weeping, she has acquired that habit 
through an unfortunate tradition of the theatre Fran- 
^ais, where the lachrymose style of mademoiselle 
Sainval, the younger, has been transmitted to her 
successors. Before the time of mademoiselle Sain- 
val, who was a favourite with the public, our ac- 
tresses did not certainly laugh in tragedy, but they 
certainly did not weep at every line, and in moments 
of dignity and courage, they never suffered tears to 
flow. Lafon made the most of the part of Haman, 
in spite of its defects, and the odious catastrophe 
with which it concludes. It is, however, better de- 
signed than the irresolute character of Ahasuerus 
which Talma played well, excepting a certain want 



MADAME CAMPAV. 151 

of tenderness in the love scenes with Esther. The 
chorusses were less effectively performed than in my 
establishment. The voices and dresses of the singers 
seemed to be alike worn out. The young maidens 
of Sidon, in odalisques of violet colour, blue, &c# 
had a very bad effect. Uniformity of dress seems 
to be naturally prescribed for the young Israelite 
virgins assembled in the presence of Esther ; and 
the rule observed at Saint Cyr, may be regarded as 
authority for this idea. It is said that they will all 
be dressed in blue, at Saint-Cloud. I hope I shall 
have an invitation; it seems but just that I should. 
The performance of Esther is to be continued at 
the Theatre Fran^ais, and the intention of acting it 
in my establishment, is favourable to that theatre, 
and to Madame Vestris. The Publkiste has again 
attacked my representation ; but its animadversions 
are contemptible, and not dangerous when it says : — 
" This new fashion of acting plays in boarding-schools 
must be opposed." Let it be remembered, that Es^ 
ther was written one hundred and ten years ago, for 
this very purpose, and that it was always acted at 
the Theatre of Saint-Cyr, where it has also been 
performed since that time. I shall reply to these 
sarcasms, by having the piece represented in my es- 
tablishment next winter. 



Dec. 16, 1806. 
My DEAR Son, 
You must surely suffer an interval of more than 
four days to elapse between your letters. I have re- 
ceived none dated December, and this is the 16th of 
the month. A bulletin from the army is now looked 
for as impatiently as a drop of r?iin in the scorching 



152 LE'iTERs or 

heat of summer. Every one expects to find in it the 
decree of his own fate, and that of Europe. But our 
distance from the scene of hostilities necessarily re- 
tards communication. I have been reading several 
works relating to Poland, a country which cannot 
but excite interest at the present moment. Indeed, 
every nation in Europe successively demands atten- 
tion ; and since the victories that have been gained 
by our immortal emperor, I have materially added to 
my information respecting the countries in which his 
triumphs have been gained. I would advise you to 
read books which treat of the conquered countries, 
which are now about to undergo changes, or to be 
completely regenerated. The first partition of Po- 
land took place in 1775 ; and this circumstance was 
unknown to the Cabinet of Versailles, through the 
neglect of the French Ministers in foreign courts. 
Cardinal de Rehan was at that time ambassador from 
France to Vienna, and the partition of Poland was 
concealed from him, a circumstance which did not 
certainly reflect much credit on his diplomatic talents. 
Other ministers, however, must have known what 
■was going on ; but it is probable that Louis XV., 
conscious of the v/eakness of France at that period, 
and controlled by his aversion for war, pretended to 
be ignorant of the partition. At all events it was 
not acknowledged by the French court. Before that 
period Poland was bounded on the east by Russia, 
on the south by Turkey, on the west by Germany, 
and on the north by the Baltic. The climate is cold, 
but the soil is singularly fertile ; producing such an 
abundance of corn, that between twelve and fifteen 
millions of bushels are annually exported. The pas- 
tures are excellent, particularly in Podolia ,• and the 
£^rass is so extremely high, that the cattle cannot be 



MADAME CAMPAN. 153 

seen grazing. The country is flat, and contains 
many forests of fir, oak and beech trees. Poland 
produces great quantities of wax, and consequently 
the honey is in an equal proportion. The horses are 
handsome and swift. The elk is not uncommon in 
the Ukraine ; it is a horned animal, having the feet, 
skin, and hoofs of a stag, and the ears of an ass. It 
must be an ugly creature. If you should go there, 
I shall not expect you to take the trouble of bringing 
me one home. Your uncle visited the salt-mines of 
Wielitska, which are eight miles from Cracow. They 
may be ranked among the curiosities of the country, 
as well as the sources of its wealth. It requires some 
courage to descend into them, for the mouths of the 
mines are perpendicular pits of great depth, and they 
are entered by means of a sort of seat attached to a 
cord, which passes over a puUy, like the bucket of a 
well. The galleries are of prodigious size, and are 
supported at different intervals by beams of wood, 
but more frequently by pillars of salt, whose surface 
reflects the flames of the torches, the only light used 
in these drear abodes. Houses, and even a church, 
have been cut out of the salt. These mines annually 
produce a sum equivalent to 2,400,000 francs. The 
salt is of the same nature as that found on the sea of 
Marmora. 

The Sarmatians, or Sclavonians, were the first inha- 
bitants of Poland. The authentic history of the 
Poles reaches no farther back than 842, the era of 
Charlemagne. Their first known king was named 
Piast. Their first queen is said to have been a Dom- 
browska, so that the general who now commands in 
Poland, has reason to be proud of his name. The 
introduction of Christianity in Poland could not have 
been earlier than 992, or near the year 1000, 

o 2 



154 LETTERS OF 

The family of the Jagellons, Dukes of Lithuania, 
ascended the throne in 1384, and kept possession of 
it by hereditary succession till 1572. Two years 
after, the throne became elective in favour of Henry 
III., son of Henry II., and of Catherine of Medicis, 
whose great renown, as well as the advantage of his 
connexion with the houses of France and Valois, 
procured him that honour. Voltaire, however, says 
of this prince, on the occasion of his quitting Poland 
to succeed to the throne of France, on the death, of 
his brother Charles IX. : — 

*' Ce n'etait plas ce Prince environne de gloire, 
Aux combats des I'enfaoce instruit par la victoire, 
Dont I'Earope, en iremblant, regandait les progres, 
Et qui de sa patrie emporta les regrets, 
Quand du Xord eionne de ses vertus supremes, 
Les peuples a ses pieds mettaienl les diad^mes, 
Tel btilie aa second rang qui s'clipse au premier, 
Ec devieot lache roi d'mtrepide guerrier." 

The crown which was thus given, for the first 
time by election, to Henry of Valois, Duke of Anjou, 
brother of King Charles IX., and who afterwards 
became Henry III., and was assassinated at Saint- 
Cloud, remained elective. 

In 1683, John Sobieski compelled the Turks to 
raise the siege of Vienna, and this, says the author 
of the analysis which I have read, was the last effort 
of Polish valour. Thus, a hundred and twenty-three 
years after that event they will perhaps be roused 
from their slumber by our great warrior : but as the 
dispositions of nations are only lulled or awakened 
by the tyranny, weakness, or power of their govern- 
ments ; and as our imposing revolution revived in 
us all the qualities ascribed by Ca£sar to the Gauls, 
ihe people of Poland, if their movement be sincere, 
may become excellent warriors. It may be remarked 



MADAME CAMPAN. 155 

to their honour, that they have always conducted 
themselves very creditably, whenever they have 
sought to gather laurels under foreign banners. 

Poland, which after the crown became elective, was 
always enfeebled by internal contentions, was dis- 
membered in 1773, in the reign of Louis XV. by 
Russia, Austria, and Prussia. This first partition 
was followed in 1795 by a second, which deprived 
the King of his political existence. Previous to its 
dissolution, the government of Poland was half mo- 
narchical and half republican j and each election of 
the King was a source of intrigue, and frequently of 
civil war. 

Poland contains a great number of towns, which 
are, for the most part, very ill-built. The population 
before 1773 amounted to eight millions five hundred 
thousand inhabitants, of whom sixty thousand were 
Jews. 

The inhabitafits were divided into three classes, 
the nobility, the citizens and the peasantry. The 
latter were almost all the serfs of the nobility. The 
Polish nobles enjoyed great privileges. They pos- 
sessed the right of life and death over their serfs. 

The nobility alone were allowed to hold lands ; 
they alone voted for the election of the King, who 
was obliged to take the opinion of the states for 
peace or war, and for the levying of taxes. The 
general assemblies were called Diets. The votes 
were required to be unanimous, and the magnats, or 
grandees of the empire, a title derived, as you will 
immediately perceive, from the Latin, viagmis^ had 
the power of throwing in a veto, which, though pro- 
ceeding but from a single person, put a stop to the 
results of the deliberations of the Diets; and the in- 
dividual who had pronounced the veto, in order to 



156 LETTERS OF 

escape the risk of being bribed, threatened or se- 
duced, would throw himself across one of the best 
horses in his stables, and gallop away from Warsaw 
as hard as he could ride. What a constitution ! 
Surely this is not to be restored ! Yet it met with 
some very warm partizans in 1793 and 1794, when 
the Poles wished to adopt a new one You know 
that Charles XII., King of Sweden, succeeded in 
placing on the throne Stanislas Leckzinski, the fa- 
ther of the consort of Louis XV. ; but he was de- 
throned shortly afterwards, and Augustus, of Saxony, 
took his place. The dauphin, son of Louis XV., 
and Maria Leckzinski, married the daughter of the 
Elector of Saxony, who had dethroned the Queen's 
father. Maria Leckzinski, notwithstanding her great 
and sincere piety, never liked her daughter-in-law, 
who afterwards became the mother of Louis XVI. ; 
and the grand-father of that unfortunate prince, once 
heard her make the following reply to a person who 
solicited some prerogative for the Saxon minister at 
the court :— •'' You would, perhaps, wish me to re- 
ceive him as a family ambassador, but I would have 
you know, that he will always be regarded in a di- 
rectly opposite light by me. The resignation made 
at the foot of the Almighty's throne, does not extend 
to the thrones of this world below." At length, 
when Augustus died, Russia protected the last Sove- 
reign, Poniatowski, with whom the elective kingdom 
terminated. This prince, who was a good-b jmr ured 
man, fond of ease and enjoyment, formerly resided 
at Paris, in the quality of a Polish gentleman ; and 
from all that I have heard related of uim, he must 
have been much such another man as Count Bielin- 
ski. The house of madame Geoffrin, and her sup- 
pers, though far from splendid, were at that time the 



MADAME CAMP AN. 157 

endezvous of all the academicians and foreigners. 

That lady, who has attached her name to the age of 
Voltaire^ was the wife of a looking-glass manufac- 
turer, and possessed no other attractions than her 
fortune, and her taste for philosophers and scientific 
men. 

Poniatowski having spent his money rather too 
freely, either at play or among the opera singers, 
his creditors threw him into the Fort P Eveque^ a 
prison for debt. Madame Geoffrin, as soon as she 
was informed of this circumstance, paid the Polish 
gentleman's debts, and released him. Poniatowski 
was so grateful for this act of kindness, that when he 
ascended the throne, he invited her to come to War- 
saw, and received her like a mother. It is said that 
he even carried his attentions so far as to have her 
apartment fitted up in a similar manner to that which 
she inhabited at Paris. Count Kasowski, the father 
of our young pupils, was treasurer-general of the 
crown, and he married mademoiselle Bielinski, who 
was related to the King. Poniatowski remained in 
this precarious and uncertain situation from 1793 
until the dismemberment of his states in 1795. 
About this time your uncle, being one day tired of 
singing and playing to him all the airs of our comic 
operas, took it into his head to put a stop to the 
King's desire for music, by singing that song in the 
opera of Theodore^ beginning-—*' s^il n^st pas Rot^ 
pourquoi Vappeler Roi P^ — No man who had passed 
his twenty-third year, would ever have hit upon such 
a plan for abridging the concert. The King seemed 
to take it amiss. He asked where that rhapsody 
was taken from, but Genest got out of the scrape by 
telling him that it was taken from Theodore a Venise^ 



158 LETTERS OF 

an opera very much in vogue at the court of Ver^ 
sailles. 

I have just received a letter from M. D***, who 
congratulates me on rour appointment, and tells me 
that he is sure, from his knowledge of you, that you 
will acquit yourself with honour ; these are his very 
words. His letter is dated Posen, the 3d December j 
and from my son I have not yet received any com- 
munication bearing the date of December I This 
circumstance adds to my grief. 

The C**** are very much gratified by the inte- 
rest which you feel in their son j perhaps he may 
have gone to meet you at Berlin. 

I hope my repetitions of all these old stories about 
Poland may afford you some amusement. Oh ! you 
are a sad fellow ; — are you ill ? or are you only lazy ? 
You cannot, surely, be indifferent I 



25th Feb. 180r. 
M. A**^ has assured me, my dear son, that my 
letters should go to you by the same courier as those 
for M. E*****, and I have to reproach myself with 
having neglected this precaution, notwithstanding 
your recommendation. You must not, however, be 
without a letter from me. To write to you is my 
only consolation. A young roan of your age, ad- 
vancing steadily towards the acquirement of a dis- 
tinguished reputation, is a very dear object to the 
heart of a mother, whose perfect happiness, or 
misery in the decline of life, depends solely on the 
conduct of her son. Continue to cultivate your 
talents ; labour to perform the duty alloted to you, 
and by the exercise of reason, divest your mind of 
all the mistaken notions of youthful inexperience. 



MADAME CAMPAN. 159 

For example, you cannot but perceive that economy 
is the foundation of all fortune and prosperity, from 
the quiet and frugal cottage, where a clean bed, a 
full cupboard; and a cellar well stored with home- 
made wine or cider, contribute to the health and the 
enjoyment of the family, up to the very throne, 
where the submission of the subject, the prosperity 
of the country, and the stability of the crown, are 
the fruits of order, and of an exchequer surpassing 
the debt of the state. This, then, to a person of en- 
lightened ambition, is the foundation stone on which 
he must build his labours and his success. Reflect 
maturely on this subject. The privations to which 
we subject ourselves, having become a duty, result- 
ing from calculation and reasoning, instead of incom- 
moding us, afford, on the contrary, a source of satis- 
faction. But it is not only necessary to regulate our 
wishes, we must also practice economy and order ; 
and this is only to be done by the habit of calcula- 
tion, and a knowledge of the respective value of 
money and provisions, or objects of the first neces- 
sity. Though you have not attended to these sub- 
jects at your outset in the world, from relying too 
much on the profits of my establishment, yet, when 
that resource is removed, and you feel the full ex- 
tent of my affection, you will learn to economise 
both from love to me and from a consideration of 
your future welfare. You must establish your fa- 
mily on a solid basis. Your great grandfather, who 
made his own fortune, left 300,000 livres in money, 
and 40,000 livres in plate and furniture behind him, 
at his death ; your grandfather gained immense sums 
in financial transactions, and in the offices which he 
filled, but he squandered away his fortune in foolish 
speculations and extravagant whims j your father 



ISO LETTERS OF 

acquired nothing, and spent 300,000 livres, bequeath- 
ing me a melancholy cypher to increase my anxiety 
and affection for you. I have disengaged, but not 
entirely withdrawn you, from this situation ; you 
must assist me, as a reasonable husband would, and 
it will be all for your own good. # * * * * 
It appears, by yesterday's bulletin, that marshal 
Ney displayed his skill and bravery in the affair of 
the 9th. But what dreadful weather. I felt that 
horrid snow falling on me yesterday as I read the 
bulletin. Happily the Almighty watches over our 
Emperor and our brave soldiers. God protects sub- 
jects as well as kings: Jae exalts and humbles nations 
at his will ; and I believe in my heart that he has 
not looked favourably upon all the plans which tend- 
ed towards the annihilation of our dear country, 
however specious the pretexts of crowned heads may 
have been. During fifteen years all their attempts 
were confounded, reckoning from the period when 
foreign powers, under the pretence of succouring an 
unfortunate king, delivered him up to the fury of his 
revolted subjects, and divided among themselves, in 
anticipation, the finest part of his inheritance, to that 
moment when, appearing to be all allied against the 
principle of the independence of nations.— ,a doctrine 
which, being adopted by the majority, spread with 
great rapidity, and was about to fill Europe with re- 
publics. The kings, however, one after the other, 
betrayed the powerful individual who replaced every 
thing on the ancient system of social order, and es- 
tablished the security of their crowns. He after- 
wards overturned them, but it was by force of arms, 
and from the necessity to which they drove him of 
opposing their bad faith. God will therefore con- 
tinue to protect us in this great struggle, as he has 



MADAME CAMFAN. " 161 

hitherto done ; and the moment of peace will be the 
era of general happiness. I am at this moment read- 
ing Bossuet's Discourse on Universal History, and I 
am full of its sentiments, as you must perceive ; for 
in that fine discourse, the force, clearness, and pre- 
cision of which, impiety itself could not but com- 
mend ; the able writer connects all the memorable 
events of ages with the will of God, ennobling his 
subjects and the principal actors on the stage of the 
world, by that unbroken chain which moves armies, 
overturns thrones, sweeps away nations, and the last 
link of which is placed in Heaven, If this, in the 
language of philosophers, is nothing more than a 
beautiful illusion, it is at least better suited to the 
elevation of great minds than their own sad realities* 
The weather here is as disagreeable as possible. 
The wind is very high, and the rain pours in such 
torrents, that I am obliged to deprive myself of the 
pleasure of visiting St. Leger and my garden, and 
confine myself very involuntarily to my chamber, 
and to my bergere. The works at St. Leger are 
completed j it will be a charming place. I have in- 
dulged myself in the whim of having a parquet-floor, 
but 1 will dispense with useless alterations, if I find 
it inconvenient to pay for them, and the sum I have 
already spent will merely pass from one object to 
another. St. Leger has increased in value from five 
to six thousand francs, in consequence of what I have 
done, otherwise I should never have meddled with 
it. The place, in its present state, may be let at 1200 
livres, though before, it could not have let at more 
than 800. When properly furnished, it may let at 
1500 livres, and may be valued at 24,000 livres ; 
while my farm may be estimated at 40,000 livres. 
P 



162 LETTERS 01 

Here then are 60,000 livres ; and this is the whole 
of our fortune. It is very little, very little indeed ; 
yet we must respect it as the mite which may pre- 
serve my son and me from the dreadful calamity of 
ivanting the means of subsistence. 



24th May, 1809. 
My dear son, I wrote to you yesterday, and I now 
write to you again to-day. I entertain for you a constant 
feeling of tenderness and love which never leaves me. 
But I am sometimes troubled with moments of anx- 
iety and sadness, which prevent me even from sleep- 
ing. You have taken up your lodgings on the banks 
of a lake ! At first I was only alarmed on account 
of your teeth ; but now I am seized with the idea of 
your falling into a fever. The banks of the most ra- 
pid river often produce this effect, and those of a lake 
must be still more unwholesome. I was tormented 
with this idea the whole night ; my dreams were full 
of it, and I am still in a state of anxiety on the sub- 
je t, I cannot think of the poor Queen's affliction 
without feeling alarmed on your account. There 
are two most critical points in the life of a beloved 
son, first, that period of infancy when the daily de- 
velopment of some amiable quality encourages the 
anticipation of properties, perhaps of a higher and 
more elevated character than those allotted to the 
beloved object ; — secondly, when an only son, a son 
like yourself, tenderly loved, has already attained 
testimonials of- his good qualities and proper con- 
duct, and when he is already in possession of hon- 
ourable appointments. These are the two periods at 



f 



MADAME CAMP AN. iG^i 

which, if a mother should have the misfortune to lose 
her son, she has nothing left but to die herself; and 
the last supposition is, doubtless, the most heart- 
rending of the two. There is a period when youth, 
scarce yet removed from infancy, indulges in unrea- 
sonable desires, and gives rise to an uncertainty re- 
specting the character and fate of a child which may 
serve as a ground for some consolation. He may, 
perhaps, have erred, his parent may perhaps have 
had cause to blush, and himself to grieve for his 
misconduct. But when a son has already advanced 
with a firm step, when he has deliberated on the ac- 
quirement of esteem and honour, and when he knows 
and pursues the road which leads to them, — when 
his mother's ear has already been flattered with his 
praises, her tenderness is converted into a transport 
of happiness and delight. The least circumstance 
then becomes an object of fear and anxiety, and that 
lake is a dreadful source of alarm to me. There are 
fevers in Germany : there are some now raging in 
the army. Think of the short space that is left me 
to live with you in this world. Think of your mo- 
ther, and ascertain whether the situation you have 
chosen is a healthful one. Inquire of the inhabitants 
what sort of summers they have, and whether they 
are not troubled with fevers or distempers. The in- 
experience of youth seeks only for solitary and ro- 
mantic spots, while more experienced age first dis- 
covers whether the place is habitable. In eleven days 
you will learn my anxiety, in twenty-two I shall have 
your answer. In the mean time, I invoke the pro- 
tection of Heaven, from the very bottom of my heart ! 
You have of course read the speech of M, dc 
Fontanes, on the reception of the remains of Fre- 



164 LETTERS OF 

derick the Great. It met with the highest success. 
Adieu, my dear son ; remember that in you my ex- 
istence is prolonged ; that the thought of you carries 
me up to 1836, 1840, and thinking of your chil- 
dren makes me look forward to 1852, 1900: re- 
member, too, that the idea of our descendants teaches 
us to love posterity ; to form more determined views 
for the happiness and glory of our country : and to 
cherish virtuous and laudable ambition ! If the sect 
of materialists who see Nothing beyond their earthly 
remains, be highly reprehensible, not less so is the 
crowd of selfish bachelors who exclaim, reasonably 
enough, indeed, as far as regards themselves, " with 
us the world is at an end !" Their ambition must be 
sublime, if they direct it towards humanity in gene- 
ral, or else entirely personal, detestable and selfish, 
if they cherish it only for themselves. For my own 
part^ if my son were no more, I should wish to end 
my existence with him, not possessing any of those 
great resources which are available to men in a mass, 
nor any of those feelings by which they connect all 
around them with themselves. Oh ! the bank of 
that horrid lake quite frightens me out of my senses, 
you see. I send you an embrace, and I hope, when 
it reaches you, it will find you well. 



26th Angust, 1807. 
The Queen's arrival is at length announced for 
this evening or to-morrow. It is to be hoped she 
will relieve me from the painful situation in which 
I have so long remained. The E***=5^ said he would 
appoint me, but he has appointed no one. They are 



MADAME CAMPAN. 165 

hastening forward the works at Ecouen, and there 
is every reason to hope that my lot will soon be de- 
termined. M. de Lac***** is a good and worthy 
man, and not without talent. What will he say of a 
woman who will unaffectedly devote the whole of 
her experience to the management of her establish- 
ment I The more he may have been misled by the 
false reports which have been made of me, the more 
pleased he will be to find that I do not deserve them. 
The Prince is celebrating his marriage. I am 
also anxious about the Queen's arrival, that I may- 
have the opportunity of forwarding your business. 
Councillors of State are now appointed to organise 
the government. You must have patience a little 
longer ; but think, in the mean time, of how much 
you can do by yourself and for yourself. Reflect 
on the misery produced by a total want of fortune j 
and let industry, regularity and economy form the 
bases of your future happiness, and that of your chil- 
dren ; — may they, as well as yourself, be happier 
than your mother. She has made, as far as her sex 
would permit, every effort to put you forward in the 
world. Learn to satisfy your natural judges, and 
do not forget that they are, and ought to be, preju- 
diced against the too rapid advancement of youth. 
It has been ever so. Among men in office, a young 
man must have passed his six or seven-and-twentieth 
year before he can acquire any consideration. Peo- 
ple are as little satisfied with those who have passed 
their fiftieth year, and they consider both the former 
and the latter incapable, unless where precocious 
talents are joined with modesty in the young, or 
where the old can boast of so brilliant and usciul a 
p 2 



166 LETTERS OF 

career that their characters must silence all remarks 
upon their years. 

I have meditated more on the world than would 
be supposed, from the natural turn of my mind. It 
may be asked, why have you not succeeded better ? 
Because I have always been placed in an equivocal si- 
tuation, and held a rank inferior to the sort of cele- 
brity which my education and the favour I have met 
with presented to my imagination. Nothing is more 
difficult than to make a brilliant station in life out of 
one that has no claim to eminence. If I had been 
born rich, and had been married to a man of high 
consideration in the world, my existence would never 
have been tormented but by natural events. If you 
obtain~the approbation of your employers, you are 
in this happy situation, with the exception, indeed, 
of your want of fortune. This is the only evil. 

I see they have commenced an attack on the audi- 
tors. This is probably occasioned by jealousy rather 
than by any blame attached to them. They have not 
been sufficiently on their guard against the rivalry 
of place. Take care to come off with as little injury 
as possible, from this little contest. It gives me, 
however, great uneasiness. Write to me oftener. 



2d January, 1809. (O. S.) 
This is the second day of a new year, my dear son, 
JLet us spend it well, that is to say, well employed. 
That is always gratifying. I assure you I often say 
so to myself. Yet I am sometimes seized with little 
fits of idleness. Then I feel a pleasure in retiring 
t9 my closet and reclining on my bergere, with my 



MADAME CAMPAN. 167 

little fire screen in my hand. But all of a sudden, an 
inward monitor exclaims : " examine your classes, 
you will find something to amend j you can correct 
by word of mouth which is the true mode of educa- 
tion ; and you ought to practice it ; it is your duty. 
Your establishment is the only means of your exis- 
tence, and that of your son j come, get up, main- 
tain your professional reputation ; that is the only 
way to overcome your enemies." I then rise and 
proceed to the examination of my pupils. You 
see that we must exercise self-command at every 
age ; and yet may I not be said to have attained that 
at which a female, particularly, may expect a little 
repose ? — Reason with yourself in the same way ; 
recollect that though I have saved you from misery, 
I have not been able to make your fortune, which 
though I had laid its foundation during the old sys- 
tem, was undermined by your father, and sapped by 
the revolution, when I had passed my forty-second 
year. Tell me how you get on with your drawing. 
You ask me questions, and you do not tell me a syl- 
lable of what interests me most. I will now give 
you as good an account as I can of all that is going 
on here. I had a delightful concert last Thursday. 
Plantade and Bonezi displayed the perfection of vo- 
cal excellence. Mademoiselle Carceux is no longer 
a scholar, she is a great genius. Madame Laval also 
played on the harp at my house ; she performs on 
that instrument at least as well as d'Alvinac, and is 
a good piano-forte player besides. She will enter my 
establishment in the monih of July. This lady, 
^vhen in London, earned an annual income of thirty 
thousand francs. This is a well-known fact; but her 
husband not having any profession to support him- 



168 LETTERS OF 

self, they spent thirty-five thousand between them, 
which of coarse threw them into dtbt ; for living in 
London is extremely dear, and indeed, wherever 
economy and system are neglected, people are sure 
to exceed their income. She therefore prefers, for 
the future, to leave her husband to seek his own for- 
tune, and to come and live with me. She is a bril- 
liant acquisition to my establishment. My concert 
was attended by the Princess Yabolowska, and her 
family, and several other persons of very high con- 
sideration among the old nobility. Every one was 
delighted with the entertainment. It is thus that I 
maintain my establishment, which otherwise would 
constantly suffer from the attacks of jealousy and 
slander ; but it is also by such means that I find my- 
self in arrears at the end of two years, without so 
much as fifty louis to lay by. This is hard to strug- 
gle against, but perhaps I shall derive benefit from 
it in the end. Unfortunately I am ten years too old. 
Esther^ and La Roster e are to be performed on 
the 12th and 13th cf February. We must not ne- 
glect to observe Lent this year, or we should incur 
the displeasure of the clergy, who are corapletelv re- 
established. Adele will play the part of Esther bet- 
ter than she did last year. M. de Lally dined with 
12S to-day, Madame Gamot, and her husband Cle- 
mence and ^L Dubreuil, were also of the party. M, 
de Ijally read to us, after dinner, an act of his tra» 
gedy of the Earl of Strafford, He recites amazingly 
well ; and his piece is rendered highly interesting 
from the circumstance of its describing a great revo- 
lutionary crisis, such as we have just experienced. 
Strafford was the minister and friend of the unfortu- 
nate Charles L, and the revolutionists of the period. 



:madame campan. 169 

who were called round heads, or levellers, sent him 
to the scaffold before that unfortunate monarch. The 
principles of these conspirators were absolutely the 
same as those of the Jacobin sect. M. de Lally will 
be in Bordeaux in the course of a fortnight. I told 
him his daughter had grown very stout, but not to 
the extent in which you have described her to me» 



I have been twice asked to supper at Malmaison, 
in the course of this month. # # # # There 
was dancing. I took with me Adele and two young 
girls, who are dependant on the First Consul. I do 
not introduce young women, arrived at a marriage- 
able age, into high life, though I have no doubt I 
shall be accused of doing so. However, the great 
point is to take care not to deserve reproach. 

Write me longer letters, and oftener. I am better 
pleased with your hand-writing. Avoid young peo- 
ple, and bad company ; let me know how you em- 
ploy your time. Adieu, my dear Henry j do not 
be idle. 



THOUGHTS 



ON 



i^iDW©^^sa;©^<a 



THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 

More than twenty years of my life, occupied 
solely in the education of youth, have led me to ob- 
serve the diversity of a great number of characters, 
and to judge of the methods which most generally 
succeed in "bringing up children well. 

My work will be destitute of the attraction of those 
fictions almost always united to plans of education ; 
and the quantity of details which I have to place 
under the eyes of my readers, gives me some uneasi- 
ness. I also fear allowing myself to be led away by 
my partiality for those innocent and graceful beings, 
an amiable crowd of whom has surrounded me for so 
many years, and to whom I have owed so many de- 
lightful moments. Sometimes I fear that a certain 
tediousness, the first and melancholy infirmity of 
age, will lengthen my subject, in spite of me ; but 
then I recollect that I dedicate my work to my for- 
mer pupils, now become mothers of families ; that in 



ITS, THE author's preface. 

doing them homage of the fruits of a long expe= 
rience, I speak to them of their dearest affections-— 
and I take courage. 

As mothers, as wives, and as sisters, women have 
the greatest influence on the destiny of men. The 
worthies in the time of chivalry, made them the 
stimulus and aim of their high feats of arms ; under 
absolute monarchies, their charms even extended 
their influence over the fate of empires, and too often 
the boudoir of a favourite became the council-cham- 
ber of kings. In a constitutional government, in 
which the wisdom of the sovereign, and the under- 
standings of his people, promulgate laws and cause 
them to be executed, the education of women should 
be directed to a useful and more praiseworthy ob- 
ject. The enlightened understanding of the present 
age deprives them of the advantage of governing by 
the sole power of beauty ; a solid education must 
now render them capable of appreciating the talents 
and virtues of their husbands, of preserving their 
fortune by a wise economy, of partaking of their ele- 
vation without ridiculous ostentation, of consoling 
them in disgrace, of bringing up their girls in all the 
virtues which ought to be inseparable from their sex, 
and directing the early years of their boys. Their 
names will figure less in history : and, for their hap- 
piness, they will supply still fewer subjects for ro- 
mances ! A sentiment truly national will lead them 
to regard their own homes as the only theatre of 
their glory, and public morals will then soon show 
the immense steps made by social order towards a 
better state of things. 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 



SECT. I. 

Nature generally gives to a mother the desire 
and power of suckling her infant ; but circumstances 
may happen to prevent it. If her constitution be 
weak, if she have experienced the slightest attack oi 
any cutaneous disease, she ought to fear h^ing too 
little milk, or to apprehend communicating to her 
child the malady from which she has suffered. The 
station which her husband fills, the levity of dispo- 
sition which often accompanies the first years of a 
youthful marriage, or even a too lively sensibility, 
may prevent her from entirely fulfilling the functions 
of maternity ; she should, therefore, in all these 
cases, cease to pretend to it. 

Happy the discreet, free, and healthy woman, who can 
accept and fulfil the duties which nature has imposed 
on her ! She will not have to- divide with a stranger 
the first caresses of her infant ; it is she alone whom 
he will call by the sweet name of mother, his first 
smile will be for her, and nature has made this first 
smile the sweetest reward of the sufferings and cares 
of maternity. In doing that which is right, more 
than one happy result follows. The young mother, 
who devotes herself to her infant, will inspire, when 
scarcely out of its childhood, a veneration which is 
not always granted in maturity. 

A mother who nurses, should renounce fetes and 
late hours, she should fly the town, and breathe the 



174 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

vivifying air of the country. She should be steady, 
seek new strength in daily exercise, and repress the 
inequalities of her character j finally, she should 
take care of herself, not only for herself alone, but 
for the infant who draws his life from her bosom. 

It is at present very rare to meet with women who, 
in charging themselves with the nursing of their chil- 
dren, are not aware of the importance of this sacred 
task ; but when Emlle appeared, the new and pre- 
cious ideas which this work brought to light, were 
adopted With as much exaggeration as fickleness ; 
and it Was fashion, accompanied by all its follies, 
which caused females to return to the duties of na- 
ture J the use of cradles became general, the taste of 
artificers was exercised in ornamenting them ; it was 
an indispensable article in a boudoir, and I believe 
that some silly women had empty ones placed on the 
front of their carriages, to give themselves in the 
Bois de Boulogne the interesting air of young nurses. 

At this period, every female nursed her children ; 
it signified little whether they had milk or not j they 
liked to nurse ; it was their whim. By another ca- 
price, they weaned at a wrong time, or neglected the 
nursery to go into the world. It is impossible to 
number the criminal follies which this maternal rage 
caused among the Parisians. During the hard win- 
ter of 178S, on coming from a ball, one of my friends 
offered to conduct me home ; it was four o'clock in 
the morning ; I entered the carriage precipitately, 
and was surprised at hearing the cries of an infant, 
and seeing, by the light of the flambeaux, a nurse 
asleep, with my friend's child upon her knees. I 
exclaimed, for the cold was at twelve degrees ; but 
to re-assure me, this tender mother showed me wrap- 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 175 

pers, and a bowl of water, and told me that she had 
twice quitted the ball-room to suckle her infant. This 
litde girl died of weakness, at five years of age. 

As soon as the nursling has attained his fourth 
month, he likes to be carried in the arms, to have 
change of place, and to be softly lulled on the knees. 
He suffers from dentition ; the open air soothes him ; 
repeated songs calm him ; and night, as well as day, 
he requires the same attentions. His mother cannot 
always pay them to him ; she cannot yet regulate 
the seasons of presenting the breast to him ; he de- 
mands it daring the night. After satisfying him, 
she has need of sleep. The choice of a nurse re- 
quires great attention, many women are, however, to 
be found, accustomed to the service required by the 
child in the cradle. All peasant-women from their 
tenderest youth are accustomed to carry children. 

Nature has placed in our sex a touching attraction 
towards the age of infancy. Women, young or old, 
never see an infant without feeling an emotion that 
men cannot know ; a nurse, therefore, can be found 
without much difficulty. 

But as soon as the child learns the names of the 
objects which strike his sight, as soon as the first 
ideas are united to the words successively imprinted 
in his memory, his education commences. The in- 
fluence of first ideas cannot be calculated ; no habit 
contracted, no principle already established, effaces 
them ; they engrave themselves without obstacle, 
and for ever, in these new minds. The choice of a 
governess is therefore much more difficult than that 
of a nurse ; this choice is even one of the most im- 
portant things in education. A scrupulous attention 
is required in selecting a governess ; we should be 



176 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

assured of the parity of her manners, of the extent 
of her knowledge, and of the superiority of her 
talents ; and it is right to do so ; but the governess 
ought to have to do with children whose age renders 
them already proper to judge of her. Without hav- 
ing to fear any censure, a governess may engrave, at 
leisure, on the minds of children, the falsest and 
most fatal opinions. We have seen them, unknown 
to the parents, create a despotism in their chamber ; 
it is the aim of almost all. There they perhaps ill- 
use the child, who is petted in the saloon ; there 
truth and falsehood may be at their entire disposal. 
If a careless or dissipated mother has once believed 
the false report of the governess, and the child 
has been unjustly punished in consequence of the 
bad character of her who governs it, the chamber 
of the instructress becomes a kind of mansion, 
decidedly separated from that of the parents ; the 
terrified child will betray nothing of what passes 
there, it will be the victim of caprice, the witness of 
disorder, and for fear of not being believed, will per- 
haps be guilty of falsehood to conceal it. 

All these inconveniences, which a judicious and 
vigilant mother overcomes without difficulty, are 
more to be feared on the part of those governesses 
who pretend to some knowledge. One should be 
preferred, who will allow herself to be directed, and 
in whom docility takes the place of education ; but 
then care should be taken that she have no vulgar 
habits, and that she communicate not to the child 
popular manners and expressions. 

The mother who would not suffer her children to 
draw their nourishment from the breast of a stranger, 
will not suffer these first ideas, so durable, to be de- 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, 177 

veloped in them by a woman without education ; 
after being the nurse, she will be the governess of 
her children, and will not be assisted by other wo- 
men, except in tiresome details, and by yielding her 
place at short intervals. It is in the chapter dedi- 
cated to this mother, truly a mother, that I collect 
all that experience has taught me on the education of 
the earliest infancy. 

SECT. II. 

Children are free in their first movements, as in 
their first desires of acting. Follow with your eye 
the timid steps which they endeavour to make alone, 
and if they approach any dangerous articles of fur- 
niture, take care not to warn them of these by crying 
out, which is the surest way of rendering them fear- 
ful or awkward. If they hurt themselves, be cool, 
and mildly stay their tears ; tell them with a re-as- 
suring voice, you zvalked too quickly ; you did not 
look before you. There is nothing to hope from a 
mother silly enough to beat the table against which 
her daughter has struck herself; from a mother who 
induces the child to imitate her, and engenders the 
most blameable anger, in the place of an useful re- 
mark. 

This imprudent mother, doubtless, will not fail to 
promise the child, when he is carried reluctantly to 
bed, that he shall return directly. If by a too weak 
tenderness a mother falls into such sad errors, there 
is no ignorant peasant but can take her place ; this 
mother will only engender in the mind of her child 
the idea of deceiving in his turn. Will this dispo- 
sition to falsehood be produced by nature ? No, it 
it will be the inevitable result of this first year of 
(^2 



1 1 b THOUGHTS ON EDUC ATIOS. 

education : of which, owing to their inexperience, 

youDg mothers are not sufficiently convinced of the 
importance. Respect for truth should be observed 
in the most trivial things ; and when a mother plays 
at hide and seek with a child of a year old, she can 
amuse her daughter, and obtain her innocent bursts 
of laughter as well, by saying, I see her do longer, as 
by crying, she is lost ! Where is she gone ? 

A child of a year old rapidly developes so much 
intelligence, that it is very certain its first year, 
though condemned to silence, has been in a great 
measure employed in observing. See it at six months 
recognise its mother, or its narse ; a little time after, 
it will shew its father, its sister^ It cries, the breast 
is presented to it, it smiles, it kicks its little feet in 
token of satisfaction. At other times it cries ; it is 
taken out of the house, it breathes the pure air of 
gardens ; and the smile which suddenly succeeds 
its tears says to you: It is that which I wanted. 
When we make ourselves so well understood, we 
must already understand. In leaving very young 
children free to act, the greatest care must be taken 
to foresee all accidents ; these cares do not render 
them timid and fearful, they are not able to judge 
of them. The edge of knives, and the points of 
scissars, may be removed ; windows, chimneys, 
wells, or basins may be surrounded by gratings : the 
curiosity natural to children, their inexperience,^- 
ought to prevent you from trusting to their intelli- 
gence and obedience. An imprudent mother will 
content herself with saying to her daughter : I for- 
bid you to go to the td^t of the river. The litde 
girl goes there, and says, I did not go. The mother, 
who suspects the truth, says another time : Do net 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 179 

go to the edge of the river, there is a wolf. And 
though disobedient and lying, the little girl becomes 
docile, solely by the effect of a ridiculous terror. 
What value will she henceforth attach to the word 
of her mother ? 

SECT. III. 

From its earliest years the idea of bed, and that 
of sleep, should be united in the mind of a child. 
Take it up as soon it is awake : a morning walk, 
its breakfast, the enjoyment of its favourite toys, 
songs, and gaiety, should animate the first mo- 
ments of the day ; make it to like the instant which 
gives it to the action of life. Montaigne says : "It 
is good to fatigue children a little, towards the end 
of the day, and to make them take a quarter of an 
hour's rest before they are put to bed ; the fatigue 
brings on sleep, and the rest renders the sleep calm ; 
they require being watched night as well as day.'' 
Learned physicians are occupied with the melan- 
choly habits that bed causes children to contract. 
Let a mother carefully conceal the cause of the 
watchfulness which she exercises on this delicate 
subject : she should never pronounce more than the 
words propriety and impropriety. 

The child will not seek other motives for the care 
that is taken to make it sleep with its hands out of 
bed, and sometimes even with gloves on ; for you will 
tell it, that it puts its hands to its face, that it eats 
with its hands, and therefore they ought to be kept 
in order. If necessary, children may also be made 
to sleep in very long and wide gowns, tied at the ex- 
tremity by means of a drawing. 

By the use of cold baths, the night inconveniences 



ISO THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

to which children are necessarily subject, are easily 
overcome j we should also, in good time, take the 
precaution of awaking them at fixed hours. With 
these cares the most complete propriety may prevail 
at the age of two years. If the inconveniences are 
prolonged beyond this time, they proceed from the 
weakness of the constitution, and it is then the affair 
of the physician. It would be as barbarous as useless, 
to use rods to cure this inconvenience, for the child 
that is beaten is indeed awake; but as soon as he 
sleeps he forgets that he has been whipped. 

Children of a very lively disposition are disposed, 
from the age of three or four years, to be tormented 
with visions before they sleep. The terror which 
^. they experience at them is not blameable ; they see, 
9 or think they see, an infinite number of grotesque or 
frightful figures crowd before their eyes. How can 
we require them to render an account of these kinds 
of waking nightmares ? In this case, without pun- 
ishing them unjustly, or condescending to their weak- 
ness, we should endeavour to overcome it, not by 
leaving them alone, and in the dark, but by taking 
proper care, without letting them know that it is with 
the intention of calming them. 

Children know not danger, how should they know 
fear ? It is true a sudden noise affects their delicate 
nerves, but in all other cases, far from being alarmed 
at noise, they like it ; their first pleasure is in mak- 
ing it, and the sound of an harmonious instrument 
^ pleases their senses less than the roll of a drum. They 
all like horses, v/hy should they fear a mouse ? Ob- 
serve further, that a white mouse enchants even those 
who are frightened at a grey one : it is, that from 
imitation they almost always derive the principle of 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 181 

fear. Take away the example, banish the word, and 
they will be preserved from a weakness troublesome 
in a woman, and contemptible in a man. Darkness 
inspires children with a sort of natural fear : they 
should be accustomed to it very young, conducted, 
without affectation, into dark places, and sent in the 
dark to fetch whatever playthings they wish to have ; 
or taken out to play on dark nights. However, care 
should be taken not to punish them by shutting them 
between two doors, or in a dark closet. 

If it thunders, pay no attention to this phenome- 
non, and continue your occupation ; during the con- 
tinuance of a storm, keep away equally from your 
children people whom fear induces to pray, or 
make signs of the cross, and those who, permit- 
ting gross and irreligious pleasantries, deceive the 
reason of children. A false idea is as hurtful to them 
as the example of a weakness. 

It is deceiving yourself to think of guarding a 
young child against popular errors, by explaining 
them to him ; the better way is to leave him ignorant 
of them. If you speak to him of ghosts, or wolf-men^ 
(loup-garous) whatever precaution you take to make 
him conceive the folly of these imaginations, he will 
only see the marvellous ; and the remedy, unskilfully 
applied, will be worse than the evil. A child who 
is forced to remain seated, cannot, like us, have re- 
course to dreams of the imagination ; he, therefore^ 
consoles himself for this constraint by biting his nails, 
squinting, and a thousand other bad habits. Heavy 
children also, who are sedentary through inclination, 
seek, in these bad habits, a means of animating their 
feeble existence. We should leave a free course to 
the activity of some, and excite that of others^ 



182 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

The impatient desire of expressing themselves 
leads children to forge easy words ; for a short time 
this habit must be tolerated. 

Vices, those melancholy diseases of the human 
heart, may be engendered in the cradle j that of jea- 
lousy sometimes makes afflicting ravages. Jealousy 
is produced from a sentiment of self-love, placed in 
the heart of man by divine providence, as a means 
of preservation. Reflection, and love of our neigh- 
bour, direct and balance this self-love ; but in the 
youngest children it often becomes the cause of a vi- 
olent jealousy, which sometimes carries them to the 
grave, and always injures the happy development 
of character. This jealousy can only have for its ob- 
ject the cares and caresses of a mother 5 and the fore- 
sight oPparents should preserve the child from this 
melancholy disposition. You should never say to 
him : " Your mamma will soon give you a little bro- 
ther or sister, you will be no longer the pet ; she 
will be occupied with the little new comer, as she is 
with you." And who can be sure that a child trust- 
ed to imprudent servants, has not heard such con- 
versation, and has not been thus prepared to envy 
and hate almost from its birth, the friend that nature 
has bestowed. In the first moments of its birth, the 
immobility of an infant causes only astonishment in 
its elder brother j but when he sees this infant press 
the bosom of which he has a recollection, and smile 
at its mother when caressed, the poison of jealousy 
takes root in his breast. A prudent mother should 
then not only continue the cares which he was accuse 
tomed to receive from her, but she should be more 
assiduous ; she should even lavish more cartsses on 
him. When the new-born child begins to grow, s. 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 183 

that its features may be distinguished, we should 
avoid comparisons with those of an elder brother or 
sister ; we should not say, he will be the handsomest 
she will be the prettiest. We too often forget that 
we are understood by the very youngest children. 
This fancy for comparing the physical advantages of 
children is so general, that there is no person who 
has not seen a thousand examples of it. And the in- 
tellectual faculties are compared with the same in- 
discretion. This one, says a mother, describing her 
children, has more recollection than the others ; the 
youngest has astonishing address, my eldest daugh- 
ter loves study, her sister v/ill learn nothing, if 3^ou 
have made all these remarks, keep them to yourself, 
they will be useful to you in the choice of the seve» 
ral methods to be employed to direct various charac- 
ters ; but communicate them not to strangers, and 
still less to your children. The present moment al- 
ways occupies us too exclusively in education ; we 
should continually have the future in view. Cherish 
by skilful and tender attention, not only the health, 
but the happiness of your children ; it exists in the 
union of families ; this union alone mitigates the 
troubles of life, and redoubles its enjoymtrnts. 

The dress of children should be absolutely alike; 
a play-thing should never be given to the eldest with» 
out having one for the youngest. In turning all your 
attention to re-assuring an elder child on the fear of 
seeing your tenderness directed towards a new-born 
infant, prevent him from considering himself too su- 
perior to the new comer. As the latter developes its 
faculties, and begins to act, suffer it not to be accused 
of all the mischief which is done, nor permit the 
eldest to say : It is the baby who has spoiled this^ 



184 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

who has broken that. Talk of the ignorance of the 
infant, engage the eldest to instruct and guide it, to 
become its protector and its friend, but never its ac- 
cuser. 

If the useful precaution to preserve a child from 
jealousy have been neglected, or if an alHicting tem- 
per have rendered it vain, there exists but one remedy 
to overcome in it this terrible sentiment ; perhaps 
even to save its life — this is to take away the new- 
born infant entirely. 

*< Further, consider," says Fenelon, *« how from 
this age children seek those who flatter them, and 
avoid those who restrain them ; how they know 
whether to cry or to be silent, to obtain that which 
they desire ; how they already possess artifice and 
jealousy." " I have seen a jealous child," says St. 
Augustine, *< he could not yet speak, and already with 
apaleface and infuriated eyes, he regarded the infant 
who sucked with him/'* The following anecdote 
will illustrate this observation. 

A celebrated physician of Paris was called in by 
the father of a family ; he saw a pretty little girl 
languishing and getting thin, v/ithout any person be- 
ing able to tell the cause. The little invalid is brought 
into the presence of the doctor ; she enters the cham- 
ber of her mother ; he sees her throw a fierce and 
sinister look on a child of four months old, which her 
mother was suckling. Take the little girl back, said 
the doctor immediately, I know the cause of her ill- 
ness ; she shall be cured. He then directed the mo- 
ther to establish her nursery in a distant chamber, to 
go to her infant to give it suck, and to keep it en- 
tirely out of the sight of the little invalid, with whom 
* Fenelon " De i-Eflucation des filles." 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 185 

she should occupy herself exclusively. For two 
years this direction was scrupulously followed ; at 
the end of that time they announced to the eldest 
sister that they were going to give to her a pretty 
little girl, whose friend and protectress she should 
be, and who would play with her ; this made her ex- 
pect her impatiently. These two sisters, whom I 
knew, loved one another tenderly, and the eldest 
owed to the enlightened understanding of an able 
observer, not only her cure, but the happiness of all 
her life. 

To educate children, it is first necessary to have a 
plan fixed, to follow it with a perseverance partaking 
of obstinacy, and not to make any modifications until 
we have deeply considered them. It is difficult to 
distinguish occasions in which we must persevere, 
and those in which modifications must be admitted. 
To persevere is necessary, reason shows it ; but on 
the other hand, domestic education is always an at« 
tempt ; and where is the father, where is the mother, 
who has founded either on books or advice, a plan 
of education proper to be followed in every point ? 
Errors of education are not reparable, they strike 
home. 

The plan once adopted, a perfect accordance be- 
tween the father and mother is the first basis of edu-» 
cation. All is lost, if either Be once blamed in the 
presence of their children. The contradictions of 
grandfathers and mothers are also much to be feared ; 
their tenderness for these little beings, whose present 
happiness occupies them exclusively, always partakes 
of weakness ; they want courage in regard to prepa- 
rations for a future which they will not enjoy ; and 
children are singularly clever in observing all that 
R 



186 THOUGHTS OS EDUCATIOX. 

concents them. If any punishments are going for- 
ward, the penetrating eye of the child who should 
suffer, will quickly distinguish the shrug or the sigh 
of his grandmother, the frown of his father; — and 
the power of his mother, who would punish him, 
will hare already lost its force. If it be of conse- 
quence to repress before children the slightest signs 
of disapprobation, still more ought we to avoid dis- 
cussing in their presence any points relative to their 
education. 

This would be giving them too high an idea of 
their importance ; it would also lead them very natu- 
rally to discuss themselves the law which ought to 
govern them; then to revolt against this law ; finally 
to prefer that of their friends, whose opinions testi- 
fied the most indulgence, and to detest the other* 
The inconveniences v.hich arise from this habit are 
very numerous. We should entirely concead from 
children the springs by which they are made to act. 

Habits contracted in intancy may influence the 
remainder of life ; this difficulty exists in the epoch 
of which I treat ; but another is joined to it. The 
same children whom you bring up to virtue, will 
soon arm themselves with an opinion ; they will be 
no longer beings blindly subservient by their weak- 
ness, and deprived ot" discernment; they will soon 
be endowed with judgment, and their father and 
mother are the first whom they will judge. 

At those moments in which a young couple con- 
templdte with delight the first fruit of iheir loves, an 
impossing and respected friend should approach them,* 
and showing them the intant w nose eyes arc still shut 
against the light, in whom life is only manifested by 
iaarticuiate sounds, he should say ; " You are about 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATI^, 187 

to crtait to yourselves a judge ; before four years 
have passed, this child will know a part of your 
weakness, and how to profit by it. At twenty, it 
will have pronounced on your vices or virtues. 
Throughout its life it will attribute its fauUs to you, 
or pay you the homage of its gratitude. Its respect 
or its censure will pass forward to its descendants ; 
this infant will represent you to all posterity." Who 
among us, has not learned from his father to attribute 
to ancestors, more or less distant, the origin of his 
elevation, and of his fortune, or the cause of his de- 
gradations and misfortunes ? 

A mother who charges herself with the first edu- 
cation of her son, doubtless finds this advantage in it 
dear to her heart— *the power of watching at the same 
time the progress of his body and of his mind. 

Until the age of seven years, a boy may be guided 
by maternal hands j after that he should be taken 
away. The austerity of study, violence of diver- 
sions, and of exercise, all that is necessary in the 
education of men, to temper their minds more 
strongly, will incessantly wound the exquisite sensi- 
bility of a mother. 

But the fruit of early years is not lost ; the man 
returns to his first friend ; he likes all his life to make 
her his guide, and in the midst of the quicksands of 
the world, in listening to his mother, he regains the 
docility of his infancy. It is easy to an observant 
eye to remark in men, whose earliest years have beea 
intrusted to an educated and wise mother, a particu- 
lar urbanity, a greater inclination to hear reason, and 
that respect and attention to females, which always 
denote the man of good company. 

The education of children commences at three 



188 THOUGHTS O^ EDUCATION, 

years of age : from that time their memory is formed, 
and is capable of receiving the first instructions. Be 
very careful of these first years of life, you will have 
less trouble when those arrive in vt^hich their educa» 
tion should be more extended. 

In ordinary undertakings or constructions, men 
examine with care the bases or foundations of them, 
whilst childhood is often delivered up to the caprices 
of relations or servants, and to the foolish idea that 
these early years are of little importance, and that it 
will be time to repair faults of character when reason 
begins to be developed. They forget that the birth 
of passions precedes that of reason, and that time is 
given them to strengthen. Too often, for instance, 
you see parents grant or refuse their children that 
which they ask, not on account of the justice or ex- 
travagance of the desires which they have formed, 
but merely following their personal inclinations. If 
they have met with a fortunate incident, they are in 
a good humour, and grant indiscriminately all that 
they ask them j if, on the contrary, any trouble, any 
disposition to melancholy excite their temper, they 
refuse even useful things. How do children then 
act ? They bound themselves no longer to knowing 
whether their demand is reasonable ; they are' solely 
occupied in the care of j^scovering the disposition of 
xn\nd of their parents, and they are consequently led 
to reflections which degrade, in their eye, those who 
refuse or grant, and which incline them to artificial 
calculations. Who among us has not heard very 
young children say to one another : **- Do not ask 
my governess for that, she is in a bad humour, and 
will not let us have it ;" or, <' Mamma is very lively 
this morning, we can ask her to let us have what we 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 189 

want." Parents must not, however, accustom chil- 
dren to separate their interests from that which af- 
fects them. A mother should say to her daughter : 
I am ill, or, something gives me much pain, do not 
make a noise, nor fatigue me with foolish questions; 
I am not able to answer you ; then the little girl will 
take a sensible part in the sufferings of her mother ; 
she will no longer say : " Mamma refuses me be- 
cause she is angry," she will say, '« Mamma is ill^ 
and I must not teaze her." If any happy event 
make the heart of a father or mother joyful, they 
should tell it to their children, they should endeavour 
to grant them the thing which they desire, an agree- 
able walk, or a little party with their young friends ; 
they should divide every thing in common with their 
children, joy or sorrow. In fixing these soft family 
chains, they will sow in their hearts the most precious 
social virtues. 

In general, the occupations, duties and pleasures 
of the world employ a great deal too much of the 
time of mothers of families. They talk not enough 
to children. It is useless to fatigue their attention 
by insignificant words, too often repeated ; they pro- 
duce no effect. If a mother live with her children, 
if she observe them carefully, they will of themselves 
indicate to her the moment for speaking to them 
with effect. Play often fatigues them ; they then 
come to her, and crossing their little hands, seem to 
fix all their attention on the tales which they desire 
and solicit. If the mother profit by this disposition, 
she will for ever engrave on their young hearts the 
truest notions and the most useful maxims. If she 
tells them a story, let it be a moral tale ; and accus- 
tom them in good time to distinguish the recital of 
R 2 



4 



190 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION; 

a fact, which really happened, from an agreable fic- 
tionj tell them this is called a historr, because the fact 
IS true, but this is only a tale invented to amuse yoli. 
Authors never deceive as to the species of their 
tales ; they know that they would not be valued, if 
they dared to deceive ; for truth alone merits the 
esteem of men. When children begin to read, you 
will tell them, look at the title of this book, you read 
the word history; open that, you will find tales; 
you are therefore aware, even before you read them, 
that one is a true recital, the other a pure invention, 
composed to amuse. If you relate a thing which 
happened to yourself, your sister, or your governess, 
you repeat a history ; change the least circumstance, 
and it is a story. If you had wit enough to composi 
a tale like Beauty and the Beast, or Prince C^eriy, 
though there w^ere neither Beauty, Beast, nor Prince 
Cherry, that would not be blameable, because you 
commenced by saying that you tell a tale* How 
many various and precious things may be conveyed 
ioto young minds by a mother who appreciates the 
utility of such conversations with her children ! Not 
only does she form their judgment, but she con- 
structs the precious foundation of piety, charity and 
goodness. Observe, might she say, this little girl, 
belonging to the gardener, — ^she is very pretty, she runs 
as quickly as ) ou do, she is very clever, it is she who 
catches the finest butterflies in my garden, to give 
them to you j she knows how to make charming 
nosegays ; she is beloved by her mother as I love 
you ; she has a heart like yourself, it beats with joy 
when her mo:hcr returns from market, or from the 
fields, as your's does, when I return from a place to 
which 1 could not take you. What, therefore, is the 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. l9l 

difference which exists between this little girl and 
you ? Her stays and peuicoat are of coarse worsted 
stuff, your frock is of very fine muslin ; (hat is be- 
cause God has made her parents poor and your's 
rich ; but it is God who gives riches, and tnkes them 
away ; God can therefore deprive us of our fortune, 
and give it to the father and mother of that little girl. 

While appreciating the usefulness of conversing 
with children, we must not, however, answer all their 
questions : they often ask things on which it is 
thought necessary to deceive them, which is always 
very wrong ; we also conclude by rendering them 
importunate. We should explain to them all which 
they can conceive, and when they ask improper 
questions, say to them, this is above the comprehen- 
sion of >our age. 

Children often ask questions for the pleasure of 
talking ; they ask an explanation which has been al- 
ready given to them ; we should be content with re- 
calling it to their recollection, and not again replying ; 
they then take the pains to think, and it operates in 
them a little movement which brings to their memory 
that which has been already told them, and shows 
them the utility of reflection. W^hen we are well ac- 
quainted with the degree of their intelligence, we 
may also exercise their minds in qualifying those 
idle questions which they ask on things which they 
can themselves explain ; tell them to think for a mo- 
ment, and they will answer themselves. This deci- 
sion will discover to them that one moment of reflec- 
tion will suffice to satisfy their curiosity. 

Love, confidence, respect and fear, are the senti- 
ments with which we should inspire children j these 
sentiments are placed in the order in which it is of 



Il2 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

consequence to develope them. In ancient educa- 
tion, children were only inspired with fear; in mo- 
dern, we are occupied much too exclusively in making 
them love us. It is true, ihat respect and fear rarely 
produce confidence and love ; but love, without fear 
and respect, is supported merely on all which flatters 
the desires of childhood ; and this love drops with 
age. It is a slight flame, which a breath may ex- 
tinguish ; but nourished by esteem and respect, it 
increases with the years, and guides the first steps of 
youth much more surely than fear aloae, from which 
the passions can easily disengage themselves ; whilst 
an afl"ectionate heart is drawn towards duty by the 
fear of afflicting beloved parents. 

The most important thing is to teach children to 
keep pace with the development of their reason ; 
seek not to obtain premature flowers which will pro- 
duce no fruit. 'Rousseau has thundered against lit- 
tle prodigies. '' The masterpiece of a good educa- 
tion," said be, "is to make a reasonable man; and 
we pretend to bring up a child by reason— it is be- 
ginning at the end." But the just wrath of this great 
philosopher has thrown him into another extreme — 
he has not sufficiently felt that it is necessary to rea- 
son with what little reason the child possesses ; that 
far trom allowing i'S faculties to sleep, far, also, from 
rousing them, it is good to follow the development 
step by step, and to hasten them as nature shows her- 
self prodigal or parsimonious towards it. 

Ihe most essential thing is to imprint on their 
memorv the meaning of words ; it is aiding the de- 
velopment of their judgment. Words, according to 
Condillac, are essential to the knowledge of things ; 
they are algebraic signs, which serve for the solution 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 193 

oi all problems. The heavy and silent, whom we 
instruct not, experience no intellectual development, 
'I'o form the judgment of children we must there- 
fore enlarge their vocabulary ; and in this opinion, 
(which accords not with that of Rousseau) we see 
that memory is a mechanical power necessary to be 
formed before the perfect judgment of things, 

A child brought up by its mother should labour 
to please her, and should rejoice when it sees her sa- 
tisfied ; this inducement, well managed, may have 
great results. I would say, further, that we must 
be careful of lavishing promises and menaces ; if we 
announce with emphasis a long promised reward, if 
we threaten a long time before we punish, we lower 
the value of our favours or punishments ; promise, 
threaten, but very rarely. Education consists as 
much in what is to be done as in what is to be said. 

The orders given by a mother are the result of 
her reflections ; she should therefore express them 
with coolness ; they will be followed without cha- 
grin. Why should she not at times make use of the 
absolute expression of her will, to command the 
child to do any thing which is agreeable to it, to 
send it to play or to walk ? It will prove the means 
of separating the idea of constraint from that of obe- 
dience ; but in all c^ses, agreeable or severe, the 
order should be irrj^vocable. 

It is the habit of obedience which forms the cha- 
racter. Knowledge, wit, talents, genius, these pre- 
cious fruiis of study or of nature, are too often spoil- 
ed by faults of character. The habit of obedience 
takes away nothing from courage, generous indepen- 
dence, or the firmness of resolution in man ; for I 
am supposing that we never make the child bend ex- 



194 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

cept to reason j and this salutary habit destroys a 
vague, rebellious spirit ; prepare it thus to respect 
the laws, to submit to necessity, finally, to be resigned, 
the most powerful consolation in misfortune. But it 
is particularly useful to women to know how to obey ; 
this is the true source of their happiness ; a father, 
a mother, a husband, dispose of their whole life, and 
they have moreover to bear with submission the yoke 
of kindness and complaisance. 

A child, used to correction, weeps when it is pu- 
nished, but it is in rage and not in repentance ? all 
its faults increase j he hates study and cherishes ha- 
tred and malice ; you would conquer it ; you ex- 
haust yourself in severe or barbarous inventions, and 
you only harden it. 

Woe to the mother, if, in a moment of impatience, 
forgetting that the child which she rears is her own 
offspring, she strikes it in order to correct it. If an- 
ger at first frightens a child, it becomes accustomed 
to it J it goes so far as to preserve its composure, 
while you lose your's, and at the moment in which 
you punish it for a fault, it perceives a vice in you. 
If, besides, physical endurance be the only thing on 
which a mother founds the success of her correction, 
the most noble qualities have already flown from the 
young heart which she wrnild form to virtue. The 
body, which we strike, in the hope of correcting the 
soul and mind, will be accustomed to blows, and the 
punishment must be prolonged. A father or mother 
could then no longer approach their child to caress it, 
without seeing it raise its arm to shield the cheek 
which they would kiss.* 

• The common and shortest way of coiTecting children, is by punis' 
ments and ihe rod, almost tl:e ouiy remedy known or used Lv sevtia! 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 195 

It is a barbarous folly to expose a child, who is 
about to be punished, to the ridicule of his compa- 
nions. I'he secresy of punishments is, on the con- 
trary, very useful in private education ; it doubles 
the effect of the pain inflicted ; it causes a proper 
modesty. In humiliating a child, we run the risk 
of debasing it in its own eyes, and discouraging it. 
Always respect in it the noble dignity which belongs 
to man. Punishments are continually used in edu- 
cation, which do much more harm than they repair. 

For example, the practice of shutting up children 
when we would punish them, is a dangerous custom ; 
if it be in a dark place, as I have already said, you 
render them fearful. The impression alone that so- 
litude makes upon them in a closed up chamber, 
may become fatal j their imagination carries them 
away, you know not whither ; it may conduct them, 
perhaps, to some vice, perhaps to some actof phrenzy, 
A woman once related to me, that having been shut 
up by her governess, and seeing from the place in 
which she was, her young sisters, playing and run- 
ning in a garden, despair seized her, and the door 
was opened by chance at the instant in which she 

of those who are charged with the education ofyouth. But this remedy 
often becomes a more dangerous evil than those which lh^-y would 
cure, if it be used unsLasonnbly, or without ip. asurt; ; for besides that 
the punishments of which we here speak, i\i.ii i? to say, the rod and the 
whip, have something in them indecent, low, and servile ; i hey cannot 
of themselves remedy faults ; und ic j,- not lik^^ly that a correction 
should become useful lo a child, if the shame of having done wrong have 
not morepoweron its mind 'ban even be pain. Besides, these pu- 
nishments give it an incu'able aversion to things which we should endf-a- 
vour to make it like: tL. v ct"an<;e not the leinper, and do not reform 
nature, but mereh repress it for a time, and only cause the passions to 
burst foith v.ith more violence when they are at liberty. Th'ey often 
abuse the mind, and harden it in evil ; for a child who has not sufficient 
liorour to be sensible to reprimand, accustoms himself to blows, and, 
like a slavf htars with punishment — (llollin, 'Vaite des Etudes, edi- 
tion de M. Le Tronne, vol. xxviii. pages 268-269,) 



196 THOUGHTS OX EDUCATIO:,. 

was going to precipitate herself from a height of 
twenty feet. I will quote two melancholy examples 
of threats of too severe punishment. A little girl, of 
nine or ten years of age, who came with her parents 
to pass the week of Corpus Christi, in a country- 
house near Paris, was tempted to take a watch be- 
longing to one of her young friends, and yielded to 
this criminal desire. The watch was sought for, 
and found ; the thief was discovered ; and the in- 
dignant parents forced her to follow the procession 
of Corpus Christi, with a writing, bearing the words 
The stealer of the -watch. The culprit, confounded, 
submitted to the terrible punishment. She returned 
with her parents without uttering a word, or shed- 
ding a single tear ; and crossing a court met a ser- 
vant, and said to her : Adieu, Marianne, I am dis- 
honoured ! then entering a wood, in which there was 
a piece of water, threw herself into it. 

A few years ago, a merchant of Paris threatened his 
son, aged ten years, with a very severe punishment, 
if, at the end of another week, he again brought a 
note of blame from a schoolmaster, to whom he went 
as day scholar. Saturday arrived ; the note of the 
master was still worse than the preceding ones. The 
child went as far as Gros-Caillou, undressed him- 
self, folded up his clothes, put them on the edge of 
the river, and, en his great coat, which contained his 
things, he placed the fatal billet of the professor, on 
which he wrote : " I dare not present this bad note 
to papa, I would rather die." What virtues would 
be developed in young hearts, so susceptible as this, 
of a praiseworthy shame and lively repentance, if 
providence granted them parents capable ol directing 
the primary years of their existence. 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. i97 

There arc, moreover, imprudent punishments, 
which without being so melancholy in their effects, 
favour one fault instead of destroying another. If, 
for instance a child has read badly, and that to pu- 
nish him you make him eat his bread without sweet- 
meats, you are far from inspiring him with a taste 
for reading, you have only mortified his appetite. A 
little girl has made her hem wrong, she has scrawltd 
her copy ; her mother (and there are too many such) 
will tell her with emphasis, that she shall not put on 
her new frock, or that she shall go out without her 
necklace ; this is the best lesson in coquetry that the 
little girl can receive. Instead of this, read the les- 
son anew, make her re-commence the copy, or the 
hem, and destine the hour of recreation to this work. 
If you punish the child during a repast, deprive 
it not of food ; make it take its accustomed dinner in 
the same room with yourself, at the same hour, but 
at a separate table ; deprive it of a sensual pleasure, 
and it will attach the more value to it j deprive it of 
honour and you make it feel the value of honour. It 
is of consequence to distinguish well in children the 
things which are to be corrected from those which 
we are wrong in wishing to repress, such as the in« 
considerate noise and importunate games of .vhich 
they are never tired ; but when they submit not to 
the command of ceasing these diversions, and con- 
tinue them with obstinacy, it is the disobedience 
which we punish, and the punishment is ju'^tly ap- 
plied. Punishments to be useful must be rare : mul- 
tiplied and repeated, they produce more than one 
bad effect ; for children have a wonderful facil.ty in 
turning thf^m into ridicule. We fear to render chil^ 
dren avaricious, by rewarding their good conduct 
S 



198 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

with money. Instead of depriving yourself of this 
means, is there not a method of ennobling it ? Give 
money to your children, but on condition that in their 
turn they give it to the poor, they will then know 
the most noble use of it, without yoar having occa- 
sion to teach it them. In private education we 
should in general be very sparing of compliments ; 
children cannot be compared to others, more ad- 
vanced, without being disposed to believe them- 
selves little wonders, particularly when strangers 
are weak enough to praise them. We should also 
banish punishments which are known to others than 
the parents ; proper vanity and shame are sentiments 
which in young hearts should be equally preserved. 
The only manner of imbuing children with the salu- 
tary fear of public opinion, is to" exaggerate the care 
which we take to render their wrongs a family se- 
cret ; a tribunal is more fearful from its privacy. 
We must preserve their earliest years from the in- 
fluence of che world, which spoils all. Applaud that 
which is good ; grant a maternal kiss as a recom- 
pense ; these very simple means will suffice to direct 
children, who are neither over indulged nor severely 
treatrd. 

In children, as in grown persons, anger is uni- 
formly excited by resistance. We should not, how- 
ever, always give into all the caprices of the child : 
but a refusal, made with coolness, and always irre- 
vocable, provokes their wrath but slighdy. It is im- 
portant not to excite in them de^res which cannot 
be satisfied, a precaution which is seldom taken by 
governesses. They show a watch to a young child, 
^nd make it tick in its ear ; it asks for it, and they 
immediately shut their hands, and putting the watch 



rFIOUGIlTS ON EDUCATION. 199 

behind them, say, that they have it not. The child 
is vexed at not having the object of its desires, is 
angry at being deceived, cries ; and thus they give 
it both a lesson in passion, and an example of false* 
hood. Soon, like its nurse, it will conceal an object 
which it wishes not to give up, and like her, it will 
affirm that it has it not, for children are mirrors 
which reflect all actions. 

If the pupil grows up without your being able 
wholly to repress the heat of its character, use little 
punishment, address yourself to its reason, fortify 
the only power which can repress this fault ; remem- 
ber, above all, that anger is contagious : be not con- 
fident in yourself, and oppose only a calm and dig- 
nified resistance to the transports of which you are 
witness : when the crisis is over, you can apply the 
remedy. 

If the knowledge of good and evil be natural iri 
man, it is in cultivated and enlightened man ; it is a 
knowledge which children cannot, certainly, possess. 
Instruct your pupil, therefore, of that which you for- 
bid ; fear not repeating that which you have already 
said, and do it in a mild and imposing manner. If 
in early play it breaks some china and you chide it, 
you may expect it to break much more, and never 
allow that it did so : if for the first sweetmeats it 
may steal, you punish it, it may still pilfer : but in 
the hope of escaping punishment, it will tell a false- 
hood. 

Fear may engage a child to falsehood, if you say 
to it, with a menacing voice, I should like to know 
who broke this ? the poor little culprit will cry, It 
was not I. A child who is not unnecessarily inti- 
midated, becomes confiding ; its mother then reads 



200 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

its young heart, she studies it, and sees what she 
ought to rectify. Besides, by encouraging confi- 
dence, she has already banished dissimulation and 
lalsehaod ; but this confidence, so precious, should 
be merited. If you deceive your pupil, it would 
soon cease to believe you ; and soon deceive you in 
return. To deceive a child, to appease its anger or 
its tears — what a futile advantage ! and how dearly 
is it purchased ! It is, however, done every day. A 
mother tells her daughter that she is going out j the 
child weeps ; the mother adds, that she will return 
directly, and the tears are arrested ^ but the mother 
returns not, and in future the little girl will cry ob- 
stinately and incessantly, every time she sees her 
mother preparing to go out. On a similar occasion, 
I have seen a mother put her snuff-box in the hands 
of her daughter, saying : You know that I cannot 
remain long without snuff, and you know that 1 shall 
soon return, because I leave you my box as a pledge. 
The child was calmed by receiving a pledge. What 
a shameful guarantee of truth ! 

Children will sometimes tell you, unnecessarily, 
and through pure carelessness, a thing which is not 
true ; learn to distinguish this sort of falsehood, and 
use not severe chastisement to repress it. A thou- 
sand opportunities of punishment will present them- 
selves to you. For instance, the child will say to 
you : I am thirsty, I am hungry, and you will reply, 
that you do not believe it, that it has already deceived 
you ; and such, you will add, is the fate of those who 
depart from truth, — when they do speak it ihey are 
not believed. Do not make a jest of this kind of 
punishment, but let your pupil feel the want from 
which she suffers ; never ask a child if what it says 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 201 

is true : begin by believing it, and let it perceive 
your surprise, your grief and anger, when you dis- 
cover that it has deceived you. 

Activity of imagination, and the desire of occupa- 
tion lead certain children to forge tales : it is this 
disposition of mind which produces impostors. The 
history of impostors would furnish an useful and in- 
teresting collection ; they are found in all classes of 
society. Young peasants have invented cheats, 
which have thrown their province into disorder : 
other impostors have kindled wars and usurped 
thrones. A woman, led by a criminal audacity, has 
become in our days the pretended friend of a queen 
of France, though the noble sentiments and dignified 
habits of this princess, since so unfortunate, render 
the tales of this intriguer as impossible as they are 
improbable.^ We should therefore endeavour to 
stifle in its birth the dangerous vice of false inven« 
tion. People who are not of necessity placed at the 
door, seldom have the fault of listening there. A 
child will not listen outside its mother's chamber, 
when it has a certain place near her in the inside | 
and whilst nothing is said but what may be heard, 
there is no occasion to banish it. Have a care how 
you engender the failing of curiosity, by yielding for 
your convenience to the habit of sending away chil- 
dren without precaution, when you would speak of 
things of which they should be ignorant. 

As soon as they begin to read writing tolerably, 
they will take a great pleasure in exercising this new 
talent ; we should watch the use which they make of 



• See in the Memoirs of Madame Campan the details relative to the 
affair of ihe necklace. 

% 2 



202 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

it: we cannot too soon teach them that discretion 
which forms the security of society. 

We put a letter, close sealed, on a table, with the 
address underneath ; the child takes it up and wishes 
to read it ; we should teach him, that when a letter 
is placed thus, it signifies that it is not intended that 
the address shall be read, that they are uneducated 
people who indulge a similar curiosity; that we 
should never seek to know any more than has beerl 
confided to us ; that if we find a letter open on the 
ground, we should merely read the address, and re- 
turn it to the person who has lost it, without read- 
ing the contents: that we should never approach 
people who are conversing in an under-tone, that we 
should not obtain by surprise the secrets of any per- 
son, and that we should always respect those whose 
confidence we receive. 

There is also a species of curiosity which manifests 
itself by embarrassing questions ; we should know 
how to answer so as to calm the imagination of chil- 
dren, rather than excite it. As soon as they reflect, 
they wish to know how they came into the world. 
We cannot long satisfy this curiosity, by telling them 
that boys are found under a cabbage, and girls under 
a rose tree. At six years of age, a very lively little 
girl rej)lied to her mother : «^ iVIy Ave-Maria has 
taught me where childen are placed before they are 
born." I have always answered this question with 
success, by saying, that the birth of children was a 
very shocking surgical operation, and that almost all 
mothers risk their life in giving it to their children ; 
the word surgical alarms them, and calms their im- 
agination. They knov*- very well that we do not ex- 
plain to them the manner in which an arm or a leg 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 203 

is cut off, a thing which they often hear spoken of; 
they therefore ask no more, and the idea that their 
birth has put the life of their mother in danger, 
softens them, and renders her still more dear to them. 

By these principles, thus engraved in very young 
minds, we cure children of curiosity, and makt tht^m 
observe the prt-cious laws of delicacy, too often ne- 
glected by people who may not however descend to 
the low curiosity of the vulgar. 

If I speak of theft, (be not offended at the word) 
a long experience has taught me that the desire of 
appropriating to themselves that which belongs to 
others, is too often engendered in the mind of the 
youngest children, and afflicting examples prove that 
the shameful vice has been found in the most dis- 
tinguished classes of society. It is by teaching chil- 
dren the respect which they owe to the property of 
others, that you keep from them the fatal temptation 
to deprive them of it ; delay not, therefore, to inspire 
them with this salutary respect. 

Before a child can speak to you and understand 
you, it has a language, which it uses to express its 
desires ; it weeps, it cries, and extends its arms to- 
wards the desired object. 

If this object be not of a nature to be given to it, 
say : It is papa's, it is mamma's. You will thus aid 
the first words which it does already, or soon will 
pronounce, to prepare its mind for the knowledge of 
thine and mine. You will soon say, while shewing it its 
play thmg: Fhis is your's, and by degrees it will learn 
that the plaything of its brother does not belong to 
it. If the horse belonging to one of its playfellows 
be finer than its own, and tempt it, say not, to con- 
sole it, that its own is the finest, — confess the truth. 



204 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION* 

But if it would appropriate to itself the thing which 
tempts it, prevent it from doing so. Mothers, know 
how to resist the tears of your children ; those early 
tears which imprudent v/omen stop, with a com- 
plaisance that may one day cause themselves to shed 
very bitter ones. 

If you have perceived in your young pupil an af- 
flicting propensity to theft, apply all you cares to the 
destruction of this inclination before increasing age 
strengthens it ; but learn to distinguish whether this 
dawning vice be accompanied by others ; for if the 
object of your tenderness manifests a soul naturally 
inclin'^d to evil, the whole system of your education 
should assume a severer aspect. Without being 
more lavish of punishments, you should be more 
sparing of caresses ; your least words, your most in- 
different actions, should be calculated for the effect 
they will produce on the child. The object then is 
not to conduct it in the path of virtue,, but to bring 
it back to it. Do you perceive a ray of hope, does 
some change appear to crown your efforts ? do not 
suffer this salutary moment to escape : profit by it, 
do not lavish praises, perhaps premature ; above all, 
do not rev/ard the child, (tor it has only not done 
wrong) but shew it yourself, and let all around you 
manifest the satisfaction which you experience. Let 
it read in your eyes, and guess in your smile, the 
alleviation of pain which it causes you. 

A mother may see destroyed every evening in 
her parlour the happy results of the morning. The 
anxiety of the triflers who visit her is to find a sub- 
ject of conversation to pass away the quarter of an 
hour which they devote to her. They see a child ; 
they notice it, caress and question it, and praise its 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 205 

cleverness; if there were no child, they would no- 
lice the lap-dog. How many mothers have I seen, 
who, knowing the world, justly appreciated the sickly 
and perfidious eulogies thus lavished, and yet by an 
unconquerable weakness, suffered their children to 
be so praised. 

Some act still more injudiciously, by quoting them- 
selves the profound reflection, or the witty reply 
that their child has made. The child will one day 
say : Mamma tell the lady what I said this morning. 

A foolish vanity equally inspires those ridiculous 
mothers, who make a parade of the education which 
they bestow, and interrupt a conversation to annoy 
themselves about some nonsense of their pets, or to 
answer their idle questions. That mother, who is 
the most usefully occupied with her duties of go- 
verness, is the mother who occupies others the least 
with them. 

SECT. IV. 

As soon as a child can pronounce distinctly, teach it 
to pray to God ; to learn to thank him for his bene- 
fits, and to love him. You will explain to it how he 
must be feared, when you begin to teach it the Cate- 
chism. 

We meet many parents who would systematically 
retard the moment in which we teach children the 
name of God, his power, and the worship which is 
due to him. They d(jubiless ought to postpone 
the instruction given in the Catechism, on the ex- 
istence and attributes of the Divinity ; but as to 
the love of God, placed though indistinctly in the 
heart of all men, whatever the nature of their belief, 
it should be developed in children as soon as they are 



'206 THOUGHTS OX EDUCATION. 

capable of admiration, love and gratitude. Say to a 
child that it is to God that it owes the tenderness of 
its paaents ; let it pray night and morning for the 
preservation of their health. Let the prayer be short, 
bui suffer it not to be muttered ; say it with the child, 
and instil that feeling, that sentiment which pene- 
trates to the heart, and is engraven thereon for ever. 
Show God in all the beauties of nature ; say that it 
is he who ornaments the ground with flowers, who 
covers it with fruits ; that the fine roses, the deli- 
cious grapes, are presents of his bounty ; that he 
makes the waters flow, and turns the harvests yel- 
low. Make your pupil admire the sun, so beautiful, 
and so brilliant, that he cannot look on it ; teach him 
that God placed it in the heavens to warm the earth 
and nourish it. Thus explain to him all things which 
strike his view, and ought to astonish it. You will 
thereby not only instruct, but you will dispose him to 
direct his own attention to objects which successive- 
ly appear before him. The habitual reading of the 
works of the immortal Fenelon, will facilitate to a 
mother the means of giving lessons so important. 

The love of God thus engraven in the hearts of 
children, we must not delay instructing them in the 
first truths of their religion : they are contained in 
the usual prayers. About the age of six years, reli- 
gious instruction, thus instilled in infancy, through 
the natural phenomena at which man ceases not to 
be astonished, becomes the most solid basis which 
can be given to articles of faith. 

Be careful of saying to a child that there are wick- 
ed poor ; conceal your opinion of these unfortu- 
nates, too often reduced by their vices to beg their 
bread; they are the images of nudity and suffering, and 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 207 

that is enough. Shut not an opening heart to this 
touching impression : let it be softened by seeing 
half-naked children and old 'people covered with rags; 
they ask bread, let the child give it to them. Let it 
have an allowance from its earliest years destined 
to this pious use, and let it be thus accustomed to 
take the part of the poor. If it asks you why God gives 
not bread to these poor people ? answer, that if riches 
are not equally divided in the world, to repair this 
misfortune, God has placed in the heart of man sen- 
sibility, and the desire of assisting his fellow crea- 
tures. 

Finally, when a child gives alms to an old person, 
make it accompany this gift with a testimony of re- 
spect ; say to it, give to this old man because he is 
poor, salute him because he is old. Useful precepts 
may be contained in few words. 

Men are born with a disposition to imitate the ac- 
tions of others ; we should therefore be continually 
careful not to give to children the slightest example 
of the cruelties which are constantly exercised on ani- 
mals. A mother should carefully keep her children 
from the sight of these barbarous scenes, which oc- 
cer every moment, and particularly in the country, 
for the wants and supplit^s of the household. Never 
let them assist at the cruel death of a pig ; let them 
not see the kitchen-maid y^lunge a knife into the 
throat of a chicken or a pigeon : let them not be wit- 
nesses to the cruelties employed by the huntsman to 
train his dogs. 1 would proscribe those cruel diver- 
sions in which a child takes pleasure in torturing 
an insect. iVIoreover, children should never be 
amused by the pains taken by unfortunate birds to 
draw up their seed and water. 



208 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

Bring up children to tell the truth, you will there- 
by make sincere men ; render them compassionate, 
they will become brave without being cruel : tastes 
change, bat principles are permanent. 

SECT. V. 

Communication with domestics should be as rare 
as possible j children can only lose by it ; to sepa- 
rate them entirely would be impossible ; it is there- 
fore very necessary to teach children to behave well 
to them. Repeat often that their faults arise from 
the misfortune of not having received an education, 
and that they are more to be pitied than blamed ; 
this equitable idea is rarely met with in the minds of 
grown up men, therefore place it in good time in 
those of children j make them perceive, that if we 
have the right of speaking haughtily, and in their 
presence, of the faults of our servants, the silence 
which respect imposes on them deprives them not of 
the right of complaining of us in places where opi- 
nions and judgments are often formed, which become 
diffused, and sully our character. 

Forbid children all familiarity with servants ; the 
best disapprove of it themselves, and will serve nei- 
ther the haughty man, who will not address a single 
word to his servants, nor him who forgets himself by 
putting himself on an equality with them. Gifts do 
not always obtain the attachment of domestics. The 
most estimable have a feeling of their good qualities, 
and will not be unjustly offended. How many women 
load their femraes^de-chamber with favours, and 
yet cannot attach one to them ! 

When a young girl approaches the age of ten 
years, w^e should be particularly careful to watch her 



Thoughts on education, 209 

communications with the female servants, and ren . 
der them as rare as possible. With the old she will 
forget what she owes to their age, and the length oi 
their service ; she will play with the young, treat 
them sometimes with familiarity, sometimes with 
impertinence, and contract the dangerous habit of 
confiding to them family secrets, of which they 
ought to be ignorant. Women have great need of 
being early and wisely directed in their conduct to- 
wards those who serve them. Sensibility of heart, 
delicacy of health, sedentary life, the details of house- 
keeping, the toilet, and travelling, materially connect 
the mistress of a house with her female servants. 
Bounty without familiarity, reprimands given with 
coolness, testimonies of satisfaction for things which 
merit it, — these fix and attach women who deserve to 
be valued ; they feel their own worth : like ourselves, 
they have their own self-love, and like not to be de- 
graded in the eyes of the world. 

SECT. VI. 

Why should a little girl be complimented on her 
toilet? We should confine ourselves to praising her 
for being properly dressed. Sufficient attentian is 
not paid to the coquetry which is infused into girls j 
whilst we should constantly direct their self-love to- 
wards a taste for propriety, the attraction of which 
surpasses, in all eyes, the brilliancy of the richest 
apparel. When a mother ornaments her child 
with rich embroideries or laces, she acts neither 
for the happiness of the present nor that of the fu- 
ture, but merely gratifies her own vanity. Simple 
clothes, a straw hat, a veil, and gloves, all clean, and 
in good order, should be the apparel of a little girl. 
T 



^10 THOUGHTS O.V EDUCATIOK. 

However rich her parents may be, ther will act with 
wisdom, and make her feel very little privation, in 
allowing her nothing more ; fine things only incom- 
mode children, and occasion them anger. "True 
grace,*' says Fenelon, *• depends not on a vain and 
affected apparel. It is true that we ought to consult 
propriety, adaptation and health, in the clothes ne- 
cessary to cover our bodies ; but, after ail, these 
stuffs which cover us, and which we may render 
convenient and agreeable, can never be the orna- 
ments which bestow^ true beauty."* 

SECT. VII. 

Teach children their sports, but do not make use 
of amusements invented to facilitate their first studies : 
these surprise their memory, destroy their intelli- 
gence, and prevent them from application. We must 
not merely consider the pleasure of a first success, 
but prepare lor others. The best of all methods is 
to have the letters of the alphabet printed upon 
cards ; place them on the ground, and name them to 
the child, who finds them out, and brings them to 
you, naming thtm : we thus save the disagreeable- 
ness of remaming in one place before a little book. 
After the wants of eating and sleeping, that of mo- 
tion is necessary to children ; we should therefore be 
careful how we restrain it ; we should even pro- 
mote it« 

Vexations given in first lessons produce, in some 
children, a distaste for all instruction; we should 
lead them by the most insensible steps to the habit of 
fixing their attention. 

• CEaTrea chslsies de Fcneloa, de I'EttoBilioQ des FiUes. 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 211 

As soon as children find pleasure in reading, they 
suspend their play, bring, themselves, their little 
book, and like an occupation which has not been pre- 
ceded by tears ; we should fix an hour in the morn- 
ing for reading, and carefully keep to the book which 
interests them. This will accustom children to much 
regularity in the employment of their time. By this 
we also inspire them with a desire to finish a reading 
commenced. 

After the first progressive lessons of the Abbe 
Gauthier, make them read the Contes cfun genre 
nouveau. The author of this charming work has 
kept himself anonymous, but has made a most useful 
present to mothers and children ; all is simple and 
adapted to the most youthful capacity. 

To make them read these tales which have charm- 
ed the primary years of life, from our grandmothers 
to ourselves, me must wait until children know very 
well that the dog does not speak, that it barks, that 
the horse neighs, and the ass brays : they will then 
iaiigh at the wolf, dressed as a woman and laid in 
the bed of the grandmother of little Red Riding 
Hood. Prevent servants from telling them these 
tales ; for they will not wait until their judgment is 
sufficiently formed to hear, without alarm, the words : 
^' The better to eat you my child ;" children will 
laugh at hearing these words, but they will not be 
the less frightened at them. 

Never allow more than one book at once, and do 
not accustom children to the vague desire of chang- 
ing their reading; it is placing words and things in 
their memory without order, and which bear no fruit. 
Perseverance teaches itself, and we know of what 
utility it is in studies, and in all the transactions of 



il2 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATIO.V. 

life. Bisides, children are very much disposed to 
re-commence the readiog of a book, the words of 
which have been explained to them, and which they 
can read more easily j they like repetitions. Who 
has not heard them ask their grandmother to amuse 
them with the recital of a tale which they have heard 
five or six times before ? 

Give not to your pupils little works extracted from 
ancient history, in which are repeated the actions 
and names of Socrates, Alcibiades, Caesar, and Cato, 
when they should only know those of Abraham and 
Moses. Order, in the communication of history, 
aids the development of mind, and is the most natu- 
ral method of teaching it. 

It is of importance to choose reading analagous to 
the tastes and dispositions of children ; they then 
find a real attraction. Observe the different sensa- 
tions which they experience while reading tales in 
which wicked children are justly punished. Do not 
say to them, what a wicked boy that is ; leave theni 
to make the remark. Do not say of the story which 
should move their sensibility, how touching I leave 
them to be moved ; and if some precious tears mani- 
fest the emotion of a young heart, learn to conceal 
the share which its sensibility has in producing your 
own. Avoid kading childhood to feign this touch- 
ing quality ; its only merit is sincerity ; and nature 
in children is the most precious of all qualities. 

SECT. viir. 

With a hundred counters of ivory we may give 
the first lessons in arithmetic. The idea of numbers 
is essential to the development of intelligence. A 
child has already acquired correctness in its idea? 



'THOtJGIlts ON Et)UCATXON, 213 

when it has attained that of great and small numbers, 
and does not say a hundred for four. Throw one, 
two or three counters on the floor, the child picks 
up, and counts them j shew it thus how to count an 
hundred j then give it two counters, it places them ; 
give it two others, and it counts four ; and so on. 
7wo and two make four ^ is a very simple axiom, to 
a cultivated capacity ; but until the age of six or 
seven years demonstration alone can make it well 
conceived : and thus simple addition may be taught. 
The child places five counters, you make it take 
away one, and ask it how many remain ? it finds 
four; and learns, that from five take one, and there 
remains four. Here you have given it the first lesson 
of simple subtraction. As the child counts, trace 
before it the figures which answer to the numbers 
which it names ; teach it to know ihem, and to make 
them on a slate. But never suffer those games which 
throw some attraction on study ; keep steadily to the 
pencil, the pen, and counters, until your lessons are 
ended. 

In teaching several children at once, we must ex» 
pect to meet with some who have much difficulty to 
conceive ; we should conceal ihis from them as much 
as possible, and assist them a little more than the 
others, that they may not lose the emulation which 
proceeds from competition. Idleness is a general 
defect ; it has its attractions ; we should do away 
with them ; it is always ready to console the child 
who is discontented with himself ; success and emu- 
lation disengage the intelligent child from it, while 
discouragement plunges the dull one headlong into it. 

At the age of six years, without being fatigued by 
premature efforts, a child may attain a very satisfac^ 
t2 



:214 THOUGHTS OS EDUCATIOX^ 

tory degree of intelligence. The time between this 
and the seventeenth year, is of great importance in 
the course of education. 

We should then be incessantly occupied, not in 
forming their reason, but in extending their judg- 
ment. Reason is a result ; it is not to be taught, but 
must be incited to grow. 

SECT. IX. 

At seven years of age the indispensable separation 
takes place ; a mother places her son in the hands of 
men, and remains charged with tbe education of her 
daughters. The future destinies of these will de- 
pend entirely upon the enlightened attentions and 
examples which she will give them. 

If she is neat, she will continually shew them the 
use of being so; if she is domestic, she will make 
them contract the precious love of ckez sot. The 
English have a distinct word for this interior so- 
journ, and pronounce it with a sentiment of respect, 
which reminds us of the penates and lares of the an- 
cients. Every virtuous French female experiences 
this exclusive attachment that a woman should feel 
:or her abode, and should depart from it as unwil- 
lingly as English ladies quit their dear home. 

There is no boarding-school, however well conS 
ducted it may be — no grand national establishment^ 
however wisely it may be organised^-no convent, 
whatever may be its pious rule, that can give an 
education comparable to that which a daughter re- 
ceives from her mother, when she is well informed, 
:\nd finds her sweetest occupation and truest glory 
n the education of her daughters. But we may also 
iffirm, that the education of the most obscure can- 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 215 

vent, of the most middling boarding-school, is pre- 
ferable to that given by an ignorant and dissipated 
mother. She is continually repeating that she should 
be miserable if she trusted her daughter in strange 
hands ; and suffers her to grow up among servants, 
in an ill regulated house j receiving ill-given lessons 
from able professors, dearly paid for ; and almost al- 
ways interrupted by all the details which consume 
the morning of a woman of the world — yet such a 
woman would educate her daughter ! 

Can two such opposite educations have but one de- 
nomination ? the first is maternal education, the se- 
cond is merely education at home. 

Mothers so little capable of bringing up their 
daughters, believe they obviate all difficulties by tak- 
ing a governess into the house. But to be usefully 
assisted in a duty, they should be able to fulfil it. If 
these mothers take any part in the education which 
they cause to be given, it is merely to blame and 
chide unreasonably ; sometimes they discourage the 
pupil : sometimes, without consideration for the go- 
verness, they change her, and exhaust the sensibility 
of their daughters by the successive presence of wo- 
men who are by turns praised as superior beings, to 
whom they owe friendship, confidence and submis- 
sion ; and denounced as valueless persons who are to 
be got rid of. 

When a mother, having delicate health, or perceiv- 
ing the inferiority of her own information, decides 
on procuring a governess, she should repose on the 
person whom she has chosen, all the responsibility of 
her important undertaking. Nothing can regulate her 
more, or inspire her with more emulation. At liberty 
as to the manner of her instruction, let her subject her 



216 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION'. 

pupils to an examination on all the branches of their 
education in the presence of their parents, once every 
three months. Let a mother exercise a just watch- 
fulness on the conduct of her girls, on the means 
used to make them follow and like employment ; she 
is then satisfied as to the conduct of the governess, 
and informed of the reality of her talents. A gover- 
ness should be freed from all the cares of servitude ; 
let her attend to the health and the dress of children, 
let her assist at their rising, and going to bed ; but 
let a servant wait upon them. If children think 
they see a kind of nurse in their governess, her pow- 
er is destroyed. She should be treated as is a mo- 
ther, who takes the trouble to instruct her child. 
Parents, however, should not go so far as to procure 
pleasures for a governess, of which her pupil does 
not yet partake. She should not figure in a drawing- 
room in an evening, when her pupil is not there : a 
few hours of distraction can only render more pain- 
ful the cares which are continually required in child- 
hood ; and an instructress by labour and study should 
cultivate the acquirements which she should teach. 

Never let the least disapprobation be addressed 
to a governess in the presence of her pupil ; a mother, 
when she finds any thing to blame, should repress it 
even in the expression of her countenance. The 
youngest little girl, if she attends to it, will discover 
in her features the proof of her dissatisfaction ; and 
if she once believes that her governess has been found 
fault with, she will incessantly try to throw blame on 
her, and will no longer feel for her either fear or re- 
sepct. Let all remarks to be made be confined to 
private conversations ; and after this, behave so as 
to defy the curious penetration with which the little 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 217 

'^\v\ examines the features of her governess, to dis- 
cover if there are the slightest traces of grief: the 
property of seeing every thing belongs to the early 
years of life. 

SECT. X. 

Well directed in all the branches of her education, 
a girl may unite to agreeable talents the practice of 
the duties belonging to a mistress of a family. Ta- 
lents, even in the eyes of their most severe censors, 
acquire an incontestable value, when a young person 
possesses them without conceit, and sacrifices to them 
no duty or convenience ; when she considers them 
merely as an ornament to more essential qualities, 
and sees in them only a means of diffusing a charm 
over domestic life. 

Let us not give way to a belief of the impossibility 
of uniting, in a girl perfectly educated, accomplish- 
ments and duties, which general opinion falsely deems 
incompatible. I am withheld from describing too 
particularly a maternal education carried to this high 
degree of perfection ; but I know a girl, of eighteen 
years of age, who expresses herself as well in English 
and German as in her own language ; who is ac- 
quainted with all that composes an extensive and so- 
lid education ; has the greatest execution on the pi- 
ano-forte, and particularly possesses the true talent 
in music, that of reading it at sight ; and who paints 
heads and landscapes in oil, so well as to find it a 
useful resource against great reverses of fortune. 
To these arts she unites the greatest skill in all the 
works of her sex, from the simple seam to the art of 
making artificial flowers ; and yet this union of dif- 
ferent talents so little destroys her taste for the mo- 



£18 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

dest occupations of the household, that when in the 
country she makes cheeses, preserves, and light con- 
fectionary ; she interests herself in the details of the 
kitchen, overlooks the farms, informs herself of all 
that relates to the cultivation of the earth ; visits 
the poor of the village, and assists, and causes them 
to be taken care of when in sickness. In the evening 
she entertains the assemblies in the drawing-room 
with the rare talent of reading well ; singing also 
with taste, or playing on the piano, to the dances of 
her young friends. A sincere piety and attractive 
modesty are the solid foundations of so many advan- 
tages, owing to the most virtuous of mothers. I'his 
amiable girl possesses them as an ornament bestowed 
upon her, and never permits a compliment on her ta- 
lents and qualities to be addressed to any but to her 
from whom she derived them. In reading this de- 
scription of her whose name must not be condemned 
to the melancholy honour of publicity, you will only 
see an ideal portrait ; whilst all who know her, struck 
with the fidelity of the resemblance, will not confound 
it with those models of perfection which figure in 
works of education to excite the emulation of youth. 
Will it be feared that this young girl, brought up 
to divide her time equally between the duties of piety, 
the occupations of her sex, and solidly acquired ta- 
lents, may be induced to signalise herself among v.'o- 
men of levity ? Let us suspend for a moment the 
sentence pronounced too lightly against accomplish- 
ments J let us inform ourselves of the kind of edu- 
cation which frivolous women have received ; let us 
inquire if they know how to profit by the pains taken 
in their youth ; and we shall discover that they are 
the most superficial, the least educated, the most en- 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, 219 

nuyees of their sex, who plunge with the greatest 
blindness into the whirlpool of pleasure. " The ig- 
norance of a girl," says Fenelon, " is the cause of 
her ennui, and of her not knowing how to employ 
herself innocently. Arrived at a certain age, if she 
has never applied herself to solid occupations, she 
can have for them neither taste nor esteem j all that 
is serious appears dull to her, all that demands a 
steady attention fatigues her. The inclination for 
pleasure, which is strong during youth, the example 
of persons of the same age, who are immersed in 
dissipation, all serve to make her fear a regulated 
and occupied life. In this early stage she wants ex- 
perience and authority to manage any thing in the 
house of her parents, and knows not even the im- 
portance of application ; particularly if her mother 
has not taken care to make her remark things in de- 
tail. If she is of distinction, being exempt from 
manual labour, she will sew a few hours in the day, 
because it is said, without knowing why, that it is 
proper for women to do so; but this is often only 
a feint, and she will not accustom herself to steady 
occupation. 

" In this situation, what will she do ? The com» 
pany of a mother, who watches her, chides her, and 
believes that to bring her up properly she should 
pardon nothing — who makes her bear all her ca- 
prices, and always appears overwhelmed with domes- 
tic cares, constrains and discourages her. She is 
surrounded by flattering women, who, seeking to in- 
sinuate themselves by base and dangerous complai- 
sance, obey all her caprices, and instruct her in all 
which can render her disgusted with propriety : 
while piety appears to her a tiresome occupation, 



220 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

and a confirmed enemy to all pleasure. In what^ 
then, will she employ herself? In nothing useful. 
And thus inapplication becomes itself an incurable 
habit. "^ 

Women are formed for sedentary life ; it is at 
home that tbev find true happiness ; the wisest in- 
cessantlv repeat this truth. Yet experience, that 
school of maxims, also teaches us that ennui drives 
happiness even from the abode which should be its 
dearest asylum, and often leads women imprudently 
to believe that they will regain it abroad. Why do 
we see so many more vvell-manDged houses among 
people constantly engaged in anxious occupations ? 
It is because ennui never takes a seat between the 
husband and wife ; that they never reserve a place 
for it at their family repast, that moment of repose 
and enjoyment to people of the lower classes. Form 
the judgment of women, that they may be usefully 
consulted on the interests of the family, and may 
Inow how to appreciate the education, the great 
works, and valorous exploits of their husbands j to 
acknowledge their just superiority; to satisfy them 
by their spirit of order, charm them by their sweet< 
ness, and know how to amuse them by their accom- 
plishments. Let the purity of their religion, morals 
and modesty, be certain pledges of constancy and 
honesty ; and then the power and happiness of wo- 
men will not be solely owing to the fleeting attrac- 
tions of youth and beauty. What husband, attracted 
by so many good qualities and charms, can seek 
abroad for amusements which never equal the charm 
of his own home ? This image of a woman, formed 

• Fenelon De I'Edacation des filles. 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 221 

for her own happiness, and that of all who belong to 
her, is here traced as a nnodel which all sensible and 
enlightened mothers should hold up to their daugh- 
ters. 

How, without injuring the health of a young per- 
son, can we instruct her perfectly in her religion, 
form her judgment, and unite several perfectly-ac- 
quired talents to a solid education ? I repeat, by a 
judicious division of the various things taught, and 
by the proper employment of time. 

The true pronunciation and familiar idioms of a 
foreign language can only be learnt from a native. 
At the age of five years, the young prrson whom I 
have already quoted had an English nurse j some of 
her relations wishing her to learn German, six years 
afterwards they sent to Berlin for a German fe.jiale, 
who was charged with waiting on her, and teaching 
her the language. Acquired by speech alone, these 
two languages were afterwards taught by rules, and 
the reading of their best authors j and time did all 
the rest. Regularly retiring at ten o'clock, and 
rising at six, the day of a young girl is composed of 
sixteen hours ; five hours given to rising, the toilette, 
meals and recreations, there remain eleven to be em- 
ployed in different studies. The holidays of Sunday 
and Thursday are indispensable in an education thus 
precisely cultivated. 

Method, and the regular employment of time, are 
not the only advantages possessed by public over 
maternal education. A valuable emulation reigns ia 
schools, which cannot be introduced into private edu- 
cation without fear of changing the nature of it. In 
a class, it is always accompanied by a generous sen 

U 



222 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

timent j in a family it produces only rivalries, jea- 
lousy, and sometimts hatred. 

Self-love is the only sentiment awakened in classes 
by the rewards or punishments distributed by the 
mistress ; the praises, reproaches, aud ehidings of a 
mother who instructs several children, excite, in less 
enlightened minds, a secret jealousy of that maternal 
tenderness on which their future so much depends. 
Children rarely see the cause of their faults, an4r al- 
ways seek that of their disgrace in unjust preposses- 
sions. 

Amongst a great number of young girls, who are 
on a par in the degree of their instruction, several 
are found of the same age ; free from all troublesome 
rivalrv, they yet contend, and are solely occupied 
with the desire of arriving first at the desired point. 

In a family, the different ages and incompetent 
methods, give not the same causes for emulation, 
and furnish not to the parents such exact points of 
comparison. 

In a class, young girls admire and cherish their 
rivals ; in the paternal mansion, there are none who 
experience not the first sentiments of that jealousy, 
of which their sex is so susceptible. If a v/ell-in- 
formed and amiable young person is quoted to them, 
if this model of perfection, with which they are con- 
tinually teazed, offers the least scope for criticism, 
it is seized with eagerness, and the most troublesome 
disposition of the mind takes the place of a noble 
and generous sentiment. 

Let the resource of emulation, therefore, be left 
where it will produce the most happy results ; but 
let regular methods for the employment of time be 
observed in private as in public education. Let the 



rilOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. tl23 

same hours bring the same duties, as strictly as if the 
clock struck the entrance and exit of the classes, 
their recreations, and recal to occupation, 

SECT. XI. 

The study of sacred history should be the first in 
order ; it for ever imprints epochs and eras on the 
memory ; it traces the line of chronology to its ori- 
gin, and thereby gives children an idea of universal 
history. 

Why make the world commence with Romulus 
or Pharamond ? We should commence with God, 
who created this world. 

To favour justness of conception— to the lessons of 
sacred history we should join the first notions of geo- 
graphy. The best way is this : make use of a globe 
of a sufficiently large diameter j the world there 
presents itself under the form in which we acknow- 
ledge it; whereas the two great circles of the map 
placed close together, are not intelligible to very- 
young childreti. Oo the globe we should first show 
them the spot on which God placed the first man, 
the division which the sons of Noah made between 
them J then turning to the maps in the Atlas of the 
Bible of Sacy, or those of the Abbe Lescui, we 
should trace the march of the Israelites, and the es- 
tablishment of their tribes. In like manner, we should 
follow the mission of Jesus Christ upon the earth ; 
nothing is more interesting than to see a child thus 
explain as the first lessons of history, these primitive 
foundations of our religion. 

When the divisions of the globe have become fa- 
miliar to the pupil, make it understood that the four 
quarters of the world, drawn on separate maps, are 



'224: TKOUGMTS ON ZDUCATIQN. 

SO only to render them more easy to be studied in 
detail. 

Europe should be £rst taught, with care. We 
should commence by making them acquainted with 
France ; with the help of a good Geographical Dic- 
tionary, composing for thtm a journey through the 
French territories. The child follows with a wand 
the route of this journey, stopping at towns, telling 
iheir topographical situation, monuments ancf es- 
tablishments, the names of celebrated men whose 
birth-place they are, and their particular productions, 
commerce, and industry. This minute geography 
much amuses the pupils, and I have met in the 
world with females, who still remember the pleasure 
they had in my youthful classes, in saying, that 
Rouen produced the best apple-jellies, and Verdun 
the best sugar-plums. 

For the comprehension of history, and for present 
utility, France should afterwards be taught, by pro- 
vinces and departments j the pupil, with a small 
wand, alternately designates and explains the rela- 
tion of departments with provinces. The use of se- 
parate sheet maps, placed on a desk during the les- 
sons, is preferable to that of an adas. Dissected 
maps are only an ingenious plaything ; children very 
quickly seize the pieces formed to unite, and com- 
pose the whole of them, like dissected engravings ; 
fcilowing only that which the sight indicates, and 
wiihout deriving from it any solid instruction. 

SECT. XII. 

The first part of grammar should be taught by 
making children learn the verbs by heart. Occa- 
sionally , Ussoos which successively illustrate acquire 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 225 

rules, are preferable to those which are taken from a 
book. We may easily compose these examples ; a 
useful maxim, a moral precept, contained in a small 
compass, will double the utility of these lessons. A 
book, from which only a single page a day is writ- 
ten, however well chosen, will not serve for the in- 
struction of children ; they are too volatile to join a 
thread so often interrupted. Faults should be cor- 
rected by explaining in what they depart from given 
rules ; each lesson should occupy two days, and 
when six of them in illustration of the rules have 
been completed, they should be recommenced. 

SECT. XIII. 

Ought talents to be given to women ? This ques- 
tion alone has caused a great number of writings, 
discussions and criticisms, and is not yet properly 
settled. However extended may be the education 
of your daughters, if their judgment be proportion- 
ately cultivated, there is nothing to fear ; and even 
when they have perfected any one of their talents to 
a degree meriting celebrity, fear nothing, if you have 
taught them, at the same time, how much it costs to 
be celebrated. 

Accomplishments spread a great charm over life; 
they animate solitude, complete happiness, and con- 
sole grief; but it is at home that they become useful, 
and charming ; elsewhere they may become danger- 
ous. Yet you may say, will a decayed gentlewo- 
man, who has no resource bat in her talents, be to 
blame if she seeks a profitable celebrity ? If accom- 
plishments are the ornamen-s of the rich, they are 
the riches of ihe prsor. The situation of this female 
has changed, and that which she knows, becomes a 



22G THOUGHTS ON EDUCATIGI?. 

laudable resource j but she should always respect 
decorum ; and if she possesses true talents, she will 
know how to render them known, without having re- 
course to an inconvenient publicity. 

For myself, I should make a powerful objection 
to the cultivation of the arts. I think I have re- 
marked, that they destroy the development of 
thought ; the prodigious time w^hjch they demand 
to acquire them, is doubtless the cause. The en- 
thusiasm which they inspire, also, often exalts a 
young imagination, and in females this is not the 
least hurtful result. It is the duty of a wise mother 
to calculate their effects as they are produced ; she 
should guide the inclinations of her pupil, sometimes 
towards reflective studies, which calm, while they 
direct the vague and rapid flight of thought; and 
sometimes she should employ her daughter in more 
amusing labours ; for excess of austerity is also to 
be feared. 

The subdivision of time in the several occupations 
of children, merits, in general, a daily and continual 
attention ; it is by that we obtain harmony in the 
whole of an education. I would have a young girl, 
accustomed to pass from her dancing lesson to the 
cares of the house, to handle alternately, and with 
equal pleasure, the needle, and the pencil; but I 
would, above all, banish from the mind of a mother, 
the foolish and dangerous self-love which makes her 
lavish praises on her children. It is there that the 
wisest of mothers fail, for the snare is placed by ma- 
ternal tenderness. Of what use are their efforts to 
form young girls for domestic cares, if it is for a^ 
gavotte or a rondo that they receive their applauses? 
How will the pupil comprehend that all her pride 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 227 

should one day repose on the well-filled duties of an 
economical wife, an industrious mother, when re- 
wards, caresses and praises are lavishrd upon the 
slightest success in the arts? when drawings, either 
mediocre or finished by her master, are displayed 
with admiration to the eyes of her parents and 
friends ? 

The study of the amusing arts, notwithstanding, 
requires some emulation. Let it be given in the 
family ; let relations and some of those friends who, 
for the charm of private life, always augment the 
number, be rendered, several times in the year, judges 
of the progress of a young girl sufficiently happy to 
recognise the world in an intimate circle. Expose 
not this young and modest flower to the notice of 
numerous assemblies. 

It is very easy for a mother to cause to be said, 
by the parties who compose her small and chosen 
circle, that which she thinks of the progress or ne- 
glect of her daughter in the cultivation of her talents ; 
this judgment, mingled with just compliments, will 
be of the greatest use to her in private education. 
Indiscriminate praises can only have bad results ; a 
girl brought up alone, or with her sisters, however 
little she may be praised, soon thinks herself a pro- 
digy. She has not near her any point of comparison 
which can enlighten her, as to her true merit : those 
who surround her praise her ; how can she help be- 
lieving them ? To remedy this inconvenience, you 
will, perhaps, think of uniting your pupil to some 
girls of her own age, and make them contend with 
each other. Leave, I repeat, to public education the 
means which are peculiar to it; emulation is there 
useful and powerful ; elsewhere you will obtain only 



228 THOUGHTS ON' EDUCATION-. 

rivalry and jealousy. Educated by her mother, a 
girl should study to please her, and rejoice when she 
succeeds ; this stimulus alone, when well managed, 
produces great results. 

SECT. XIV. 

Children's balls are in fashion, and fashion is a 
monarch ; it is therefore only to some prudent mo- 
thers that I would indicate the danger of them. 

In education nothing should be hastened, even in 
the most essential things. Should we hasten to in- 
spire the desire of pleasing by figure^ dancing and 
the toilette, in children who have so little need of 
display to amuse them ? Must they be prematurely 
introduced into brilliant circles where they contract 
vices ? Should a simple amusement render the toilette 
of a young girl an object of elegant consideration r 
3Ioiher5 deceive themselves in the cares which they 
thus prematurely cultivate, and mistake their vanity 
for maternal tenderness. 

Besides, who knows whether some young dancer 
mav not address to his partner those flattering 
speeches, of which she ought to be ignorant, until 
she can appreciate them r Do we believe that pas- 
sions are so very tardy in developing themselves in 
men ? I have seen a duel engaged in by two rivals 
of fourteen years of age, for a beauty of twelve. And 
this same event, which is often occasioned by meet- 
ings of children of the two sexes, has furnished ma- 
dame de Genlis with the subject of one of the come- 
dies of her charming * Theatre d'Education.' 

Accomplisriments shoulu not form the basis of the 
education of girls ; but the first lessons in dancing 
and the piano should be given at about the age of 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 229 

seven years. Youthful limbs can place themselves 
more easily according to rules, which add to the 
graceful embellishments, and render them so natural, 
that the fruit of lessons can no longer be distinguish- 
ed : it is also very certain that the development and 
health of children gain much, when they contract in 
good time the habit of holding themselves up, and 
walking gracefully. 

The piano-forte requires a long and painful me- 
chanical study ; this study is well adapted to an age 
in which the judgment cannot be employed in more 
useful occupations. The pliant fingers of childhood 
accommodate themselves to this exercise ; more ad- 
vanced, they acquire a rigidity which refuses to do 
so. All persons who have a true knowledge of this 
instrument, have begun to take lessons at the earliest 
age ; yet, I have remarked, that it is proper to wait 
until the hand can nearly reach an octave on the 
keys, without which, children contract the habit of 
making their hand spring forward, which they get 
rid of with great difficulty. 

We now possess fixed and excellent methods for 
the instruction of the piano-forte. The rules for 
fingering are no longer uncertain, as they were thirty- 
years ago, before the school of the Conservatoire of 
Paris, where almost all celebrated professors are 
formed. 1 he instructions of M. Adam, and other 
works founded on the same rules, are generally 
adopted ; and a pupil, in changing her master, is no 
longer exposed, as formerly, to the necessity of aban- 
doning habifs already contracted, to re-commence 
the study of fingering of another master. 

We should not require children to study princi- 
ples alone, which would be fastidious even to a rea- 



230 THOUGHTS OK EDUCATION. 

sonable person ; they cannot study willingly unt;: 
they begin to know some airs which please them, 
and attach them to it. During the first year, they 
should have a lesson every day ; these lessons need 
be repeated only three times a week, when the pupil 
has advanced a little. The hour of instruction ought 
to be Hxed like that of a lesson, and the mother 
should be present ; for in attention consists all the 
utility. 

To play at sight is the desired point in music. 
We possess but an imperfect talent, when memory 
alone places under our fingers some very difficult 
and brilliant sonatas, es^'cuted without that feeling 
which forms the perfect knowledge of harmony. 
Yet we should not cause the sonata or rondo, already 
learnt, to be suddenly abandoned : it is not only 
agreeable to the parents, but it is useful to the scho- 
lar, to have always (to make use of a technical ex- 
pression,) one or two pieces under the fingers, which 
she can play. Without boasting of the talent of her 
daughter, a mother should accustom her to play as 
soon as she is asked, in the presence of friends capa- 
ble of entering into the views of parents by applaud- 
ing the happy results of study? without lavishing 
those eulogies which arouse sell-love. To tremble 
through timidity, is to deprive yourself of all power 
in a species of accomplishment in which the hand re- 
quires to be unagitated by any impression of the 
nerves. We should ver)' early conquer this trouble- 
some habit, and prevent the return of it. I have 
known young persons seized with such timidity 
at the age in which reflection developes self-love, 
that after charming society by the display of a very 
fine talent, they have suddenly lost the power of 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 231 

playing before any person. The position of the 
hands in playing the harp renders the trrmbling still 
more probable and troubleson^e than on the piano. In 
singing, the inconvenience is stiil worse ; the first 
effect of fear is to alter, by confining, the organs of 
the voice. The habit of playing on the piano, at the 
first invitation of a mother, also prevents that mania 
of bad taste, which consists in causing yourself to be 
assailed with repeated entreaties, so fatiguing in ge- 
neral to those who take the trouble to make them, 
that the pleasure they receive very seldom repays 
the ennui and impatience of a too prolonged atten- 
tion. 

The numerous hours that a young girl employs in 
the study of an instrument would be much to be re- 
gretted, if they aid not procure for her a genuine 
talent for life. Nature often refuses organs favour- 
able to the art of music, but she rarely distributes 
these gifts by halves, and we may be certain that the 
little girl who sings correctly the air of the day, and 
has already some agreeable tones in her voice, is per- 
fectly organised for its acquirement. It is evident 
that her ear is just, since she retains a series of va- 
ried tones, and that she has the proper organ, since 
she can repeat them. The ear may sometimes be 
just, without the voice being yet developed, and that 
is sufficient. Children themselves shew the degree 
of their musical organisation by the greater or less 
eagerness with which they listen to instruments, or 
dance, or march in time, when they hear country 
dances or marches played. 

Why should we make a musician of a child, when 
we have not remarked in her any of these evident 
signs ? Other accomplishments may replace with 



23£ THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

advantage that for which nature has not fitted her ; 
and in every thing we should submit to her laws, 
and not comply too easily with the desires which 
children express. "^ 

We hear it said every day, that a young person, 
as soon as she is married, shuts her piano, which be- 
comes merely a useless piece of furniture ; that is 
true, when it recals only the melmcholy recollection 
of a culture without fruit. If, by means of repeated 
lessons, severe chiding and tears, she is able to play 
some sonatas, which have never contributed to her 
pleasure, nor that of others, is it not very natural 
that she should free herself from this constraint, as 
soon as she can follow her inclination ? When a 
young woman, at the time of her marriage, can ac- 
company herself at sight, and after singing a seleC" 
tion of agreeable airs, can transform her piano into 
an orchestra, she animates the gaiety of a well-as- 
sorted union ; at the same time, her talent will con- 
tinually procure her the means of occupying and 
pleasing herself, and most certainly, she will not ne- 
glect it. 

SECT. XV. 
If you cause your pupil to contract early the habit 
of occupying herself with domestic arrangements, if 

* I will observe, on this subject, that when we wish children to learn 
many things, we shonld practice the art of making them ask for the roas- 
ters whom th -y drs.pe to have ; an<l whf n they deraaml them, we should 
say that we only coMsent, on condition that they promise to persevere 
in the new study which they have chosen ; because, there is weakness, 
and cor.sequentiy shame, in renouncing a thing which they vohintarily 
undertake-. Without this kind of artifice, children, to whom we wish 
to give a v/ry extensive instruciion, wdi find themselves ove-loaded with 
studies, and will regir-l rh-m with tnucli disgust. There i* no oecasiorx 
tor this sti'atageia in olijec-.s or inswuction which are absolutely necessa- 
ry, or considered >o, hs Lain f'l'- inen, history, geogra; hy, &cc. ; but it 
must be empk-vt-d in hH things in which it is not shameful to be iguo- 
I'ant. (Lecons d'une Governante a seseleves. ) 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 233 

you inspire her with a taste for country affairs, she 
will cultivate private life, and will be preserved from 
the too common fault among women of fortune, 
that of appreciating a house merely by the beauty of 
a drawing-room, or the elegance of a boudoir, and 
gardens by the good taste of gay pavilions and ar- 
bours, where ennui nevertheless quickly assails thenio 

We should risk rendering the instruction of a 
young girl nugatory, if an orderly and continually 
observed method did not make the hours, destined 
for the care of the household, regularly succeed 
those devoted to sedentary studies and lessons j let 
every thing have its stated time, and we shall find 
time to attend to every thing. 

Habits are to be feared ; we are accustomed to be 
prodigal, as well as economical ; it is therefore, indis- 
pensable to carefully teach a girl the value and use 
of money, before we repose in her sufficient confi- 
dence to trust to her the expenses of he'r maintenance. 
For one or two years we should make her add up 
the articles of her expense ; after which, let her 
reckon, and distribute herself the sums destined for 
their discharge. 

Reflections often arise from that which meets the 
eye j and without having a love for money, its prompt 
dispersion causes a sort of regret and inspires the 
desire of sparing it. Let not a mother fear to ren- 
der her child avaricious ; this vice belongs not to 
this age, which generally gives way to prodigality. 
Wants are so multiplied, industry is so employed, 
that under a thousand seducing forms superfluity 
takes the form of necessity. A young woman, oil 
entiering the world, ought incessantly to repress her 
desires by the precious habit of cconomv. it is par- 
X 



234 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

ticularly essential to trust a girl to pay herself the 
different masters who attend her ; she will then 
better appreciate the expenses of her education, and 
will feel the necessity of profiting by them : and 
every thing which exercises the judgment, forms it. 
Lessons of economy are too often confined to vague 
recommendations to be sparing, and to reiterated 
complaints of excessive expense, which never fail to 
teaze youth without forming it. It is one of those 
things in which proofs are every thing, principles 
nothing. How important it is for girls to learn from 
their mother how great a share women may have in 
the preservation or ruin of the fortune of their fa- 
mily ! and that they should know from her that the 
division of duty between man and wife gives to one 
the care of acquiring, and to the other that of pre- 
serving. 

The epoch of the first communion doubtless leaves 
salutary impressions ; but a mother will be much de- 
ceived if she is ignorant that every step towards the 
perfection of reason is accompanied by new tenden- 
cies to folly. She ought to expect this, and follow 
the development with patient attention. 

SECT. XVI. 

The best ed ucated and handsomest little girl, ar- 
rived at the age of twelve years, will pass over a 
space of four years, during which, her graces, her 
mien, and even her features, will lose a great part of 
their charms. Her growth, however regular it may 
be, will produce restlessness, — ^^and the most false rea- 
sonings will take place of her childish docility. 

During the course of these four years, a mo^er 
will remark in her daughter the dawnings of a desire 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 23.> 

to please ; she will imitate all which her unformed 
taste will represent to her as agreeable. If one of 
her companions, older by two or three years than 
herself, and who has obtained seme notice in the 
world, has the misfortune to lisp, she will do the 
same ; if a woman, quoted for her acquirements, has 
any fault in her gait or carriage, she will imitate this 
natural imperfection, and fancy that she has acquired 
one of her accomplishments. She will never fail to 
follow the most ridiculous fashion. With patience 
and mildness we must make her blush at aii these 
errors ; and above all, alv/ays prevent her from al- 
tering her voice or pronunciation. Nothing gives 
stronger prepossessions against the character of a 
woman than a lisping and affected speech, by which 
she at once announces the ridiculous and constant ef- 
forts which she makes to please, in disguising her 
natural v oice. A correct pronunciation, a choice of 
pleasing expressions, form the greatest charm of con- 
versation. Happy are they, who to these can unite 
wit, address and taste, without ever preferring them 
to nature ! 

This is an age of impertinent repartees, even to- 
wards the most respected persons. These repar- 
tees often partake of a vivacity of mind which reason 
has not yet conquered. When they are not accom- 
panied by traits of malignity, they need give no un- 
easiness with regard to goodness of heart. These 
light inequalities will disappear with the desire of 
pleasing, and the need of being lov^ed. 

Great care should be taken to prevent girls from 
reading romances at an age when the judgment is 
not yet formed, and the first ideas are excited by 
vague sensations ; a mother should have courage to 



236 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

renounce it herself. I say courage, because there 
exist many which she may regret not reading ; but 
would she not have much more to regret, if she 
preserved not her daughter from the attraction of 
this reading, which may sometimes, without danger, 
charm the leisure of a formed mind, whilst it conveys 
the most melancholy disease to the ideas aad mental 
formation of a young person r A mother should 
therefore totally forbid this kind of reading. Should 
she say to a girl of fourteen, there are your books, 
and here are mine; what inconveniences would pro- 
ceed from such a division ! 

Can we flatter ourselves with making a girl read 
with interest the history of Greece and Rome, with 
placing the less brilliant facts of modern history in 
her memory, if she can find a thousand times greater 
pleasure in reading Mathilde in the Desert, Corinne 
in Italv, and the Heroines of Walter Scott, in the 
ISIoantains of Scotland ? These works have not only 
this inconvenience, that we must forbid the reading 
of them J they have the additional danger of moving 
the heart and mind, by sentiments produced from the 
power of love, by thwarted inclinations and imagi- 
nary events, which the talent of the author envelopes 
with a deceitful appearance of truth. The necessity 
of producing great effects, constrains romance wri- 
ters to overcharge the description of vice and virtue* 
Like a false map of geography, those productions, 
instead of guiding, mislead the first steps of a young 
girl. Shall we say that there aie romances, the mo- 
rals of which are so pure that they may be read with- 
out danger ; in which vice is always punished, and 
"virtue rewarded ; in which we contemplate fine and 
noble characters ? Argjuments favourable to this 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. £37 

kind of reading are supported on errors j love is 
never banished from it: all the favoured lovers are 
handsome, brave, sincere, and faithful. So seducing 
a picture strikes the imagination of a 3'oung girl j 
from this moment she seeks in the world the chime- 
rical image of the heroes whose adventures she has 
read ; and if, which happens but too often, the hus- 
band destined for her offers no resemblance to this 
cherished image, it also too often happens that when 
married, she is so unfortunate as still to seek it. 

Romance reading has further the inconvenience of 
exalting sensibility* To prevent so precious a gift 
of nature from becoming hurtful to happiness, sensi- 
bility should be formed vvith judgment, otherwise 
every thing is carried to the extreme ; we no longer 
appreciate, we admire; no longer approve, bat boast; 
no longer love, but adore ; the most common events 
appear instances of strange good fortune, or of a 
dreadful calamity. 

True sensibility is allied to goodness and com- 
passion, and thus enters the region of the heart ; ex- 
aggerated, it belongs to that of imagination ; it will 
lead a young girl of fourteen to confound expres- 
sions of filial tenderness with those of a sentiment 
v;hich her heart anticipates. This unnatural sensi- 
bility misleads women on the most holy points of 
pious duties ; they pass the bounds prescribed to 
their sex in all which relates to the Catechism ; we 
have seen some, whose exalted minds borrowed the 
forms of a lively eloquence, and who seemed to wish 
to unite the government of religious ideas to the 
power of their charms. Was it not a woman who 
drew on Fenelon the thunders of the church ? If 
sensibility, directed by imagination alone, could prc^ 



238 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

duce similar errors, with what care should a mother 
forbid her daughter the reading of works in which 
piety, respectable in its principle, is lost in the lan- 
guage of mystification? Immutable and sublime 
truths lose nothing by simplicity of expression ; their 
triumph is in touching the heart and astonishing the 
reason ; to embellish is to weaken them. 

SECT. XVII. 

I write for the world, and in the hope of being 
useful to it ; I will not be more severe than it is it- 
self, I even believe that moral health is better pro- 
moted by a degree of prudence, wisely combined, 
than by severity without reflection. 

The soul is formed, nourished, and grows like the 
body ; different lessons of morality should, therefore, 
be given to it in proportion as it becomes capable of 
receiving them. 

After forbidding a girl to read any sort of romances, 
at eighteen years of age her principles being consoli- 
dated, I would have her mother make her read some 
of those works which depict our great errors and 
misfortunes. 

A mother, before she marries her daughter, should 
conduct her into the world, make her acquainted 
with its pleasures, and study to render her politeness 
benevolent. 

Let her accustom herself to listen with interest, 
to speak little, and to reply with grace. A young 
person should be full of rep:ard to elderly females, 
amiable to the young, equally polite to all men, but 
more occupied with those of mature age. Young 
people are npt to discern the effect which their pre- 
sence produces ; it is their most habitual study ; em- 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. X' 39 

barrassment and blushing evince it no less thatisim^ 
pering and artificial gaiety. A calm and polite ease 
keeps them within the bounds of respect much more 
than affected prudery. 

It is not of men alone, but very much of them- 
selves, that young girls should be made afraid. If 
you represent all men to them as perfidious, ungrate- 
ful monsters, and some young man discovers to them 
a pure and regulated mind, they will immediately be 
smitten by this phcenix ; make them rather fear their 
own weakness ; teach them that the forgetfulness of 
modesty may, in a single instant, lower them in the 
eyes of men ; that they are generally distrustful of 
the virtues of our sex ; that they incessantly study 
the impression which their presence may make on our 
senses ; and that to obtain their esteem, we must 
know how to govern the impression. 

Let the dress of a girl be simple, but very precise 5 
propriety should be its greatest ornament, and the 
good taste of her mother will keep extravagant and 
transient fashions from her toilette. 

The day after an evening passed in the world, 
the conversation of a mother with her daughter 
should consist of valuable lessons on the errors which 
she has remarked, on faults v/hich she herself com- 
mitted, as well as on all things which have justly 
merited praise. 

To praise the talents and accomplishments of 
others, and to find pleasure in making them valued, 
is the surest method of pleasing and being praised in 
your turn. Praise, however, should wear a character 
of modesty. An eulogium which should seem to 
say, my superiority appreciates you, will wound as 
much as indifference, or any air of criticism. In ge» 



240 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

neral, let a mother form her daughter to observe, 
and not to criticise ; we make remarks to ourselves, 
we criticise to others. 

Honoured be the mother, who, in bringing up her 
daughter, is not actuated by the sole desire of ren- 
dering her fascinating, and who sees not exclusively 
in the superiority of her talents a means of establish- 
ing her! To forntt her judgment, and enlighten her 
mind, is to secure a durable happiness. Accustomed 
to place in the first class of her duties all those which 
relate to piety, modesty, decorum, and useful know- 
ledge, she will cherish her home, and cause order 
and economy to reign there. To these qualities let 
her unite knowledge without pedantry, talents with- 
out pretension, and grace without affectation ; she 
will then be wise without vanity, happy without wit- 
nesses, content without admirers, and a good wife, 
a good mistress of a house, and a good mother of a 
family. 



OF PUBLIC EDUCATION. 



SECT. I. 

Education, that important subject, has not ceased, 
at all times, and in all civilised countries, to rouse the 
most sensible hearts, and to occupy the wisest govern- 
ments ; yet, this so often debated subject seems still 
undetermined. In France, opinions are almost as 
divided on education, as on the best forms of govern- 
ment. Some think that men separated from the 
world, devoted wholly to their personal studies, aiid 
finding no food for a praiseworthy ambition, but in 
the progress of their pupils, are the only persons ca- 
pable of educating youth : others maintain, that men 
tried by the labours, pains, pleasures and dangers of 
society, knowing all the duties of citizens, and all 
the emotions of paternity, are more proper to instruct 
and form youth. Sometimes we countenance classical 
studies alone ; sometimes the disposition or views 
cf^ chiefs of empires, lead them to give great en- 
couragement to the arts and sciences ; sometimes we 
aamit of accomplishments in the education of young 
men ; sometimes we reprove them. Some say, that 
to be wise, and consequently happy, men of the 
lower classes have need of instruction ; that a culti- 
vated judgment renders them more docile to the 
voice of reason, more disposed to a reflective obe- 
dience, which produces the sentiment of personal 
dignity, love of their country, and respect for thp 



242 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

laws. Others deny all these ideas, and would coniine 
education to a small number, and bound that of the 
mass to the mere instruction of religion. When 
questions so grave, and so much beyond my under- 
standing on the education of men are still debated, 
how can we wonder that the culture of women has 
scarcely occupied the attention of governments ? 

It is only within the last fifty years that any atten- 
tion has been paid among us to the education of fe- 
males ; the progress of this part of instruction was 
not remarkable, until near the crisis of the French 
revolution. Twenty-five years before this last epoch, 
most girls passed no more than a year in a nvonas- 
tery,. and this year was devoted to a profound study 
of the Catechism, retirement and the first communion. 
This retirement freed parents from the embarrass- 
ment and inconvenience of conducting, or causing 
them to be conducted, to the public Catechism of the 
parishes ; but we had for a long time abandoned the 
custom of leaving girls to the age of eighteen behind 
the grates, whence they issued, without knowing how 
to write two words of their own language. I fear 
not being taxed with unjust prejudices against the 
ancient education. On the table on which I am 
writing, lies the discourse of the immortal Fenelon, 
on the education of girls, and I there read these 
lines: " Teach a girl to read and write correctly ; 
it is shameful, but common, to see women who have 
wit and politeness, unable to pronounce clearly tllat 
which they read : they either bawl, or sing ; instead 
of which they ought to read with a simple and natu- 
ral, but firm and easy tone. They are moreover very 
ignorant of orthography, and the manner of forming 
and joining their letters in writing. Accustom them. 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 243 

at least, to make their lines straight, to render their 
characters neat and readable ; a girl should also be 
acquainted with the grammar of her own language." 
By the little which Fenelon requires, it is easy to 
judge of the little that was known. Without vanity, 
I believe I may flatter myself with having given more 
variety and extent to instruction. 

As to the sacred duties of religion, the efforts, 
which, in the establishmt-nts confided to my care, 
I have had the happiness to devote to this immuta- 
ble basis of all virtues, confirm the sincerity of my 
opinions. In 1795, in those unfortunate times in 
which religion, the centre of all public morality, was 
annihilated, the establishment that I formed in the 
town of Saint-Germain consisted only of three pupils, 
when I associated in my labours a nun of the order 
of St. Thomas ; she was charged solely with the in- 
struction of religion, whilst I gave my attention to 
all the other branches of education. Some years af- 
terwards, when a happier time restored to the French 
the free exercise of their religion, I caused a chapel 
to be built, and established an almoner to direct spi- 
ritual instruction. My chapel was consecrated; 
several bishops volunteered to officiate in it ; and as 
the great duties of religion might there be fulfilled, 
the pupils were no longer obliged to quit the pre- 
cincts of the house. 

SECT. II. 

There are very few schools in which children are 
well fed ; there are even some in which they are not 
sufficiently so ; this is not merely a fault in the heads 
"of these establishments, it is a crime. Purity of 
blood, strength of body, and the future health and 



240 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

comfort of youth, are too often compromised by the 
avarice or carelessness of teachers. 

It is shameful to hear iDcessantly so many artless 
complaints, on a point so essential. Scholars often 
murmur at the sight of the loathsome food which is 
served up to them, revolt in their refectories, and 
become disorderly, through a cause which their su- 
perior does not duly consider. Excellent bread, 
good meat, and well-seasoned vegetables, served with 
propriety, suffice to satisfy scholars. The appetite 
of youth has not occasion for made dishes- Rich 
parents would obtain particular attentions by paying 
higher terms, which it should be the duty of masters 
of schools to rei'use. The children of the rich should 
proceed, without distaste, from the most sumptuous 
table to that of their school ; and those who, at 
home, are not accustomed to good living, should 
not lose, at school, the habit of a sobriety conforma- 
ble to the mediocrity of their fortune. The true, 
the precious level of equality should prevail in 
schools ; there, alone, society admits of it. At the 
table of a school, the children of a peer of France, 
and those of its farmers, should be equally treated. 
The laws of society are not those of the school ; 
scholars acknowledge no other superiority than that 
which is the fruit of exertion. Why engender pride 
or envy in their hearts r The study of history will 
teach them the high price attached to valour and 
eminent talents ; the world will acquaint them with 
the personal or hereditary advantages which will 
form their just recompense ; they will know how to 
arrive at them, or to submit to see them possessed 
by others. Bat it is dangerous to make minds ex- 
perience the consequences of these political distinc- 



THOUGHTS OiN EDUCATION'. 241 

tions, which are not yet enlightened by the knowledge 
of the laws of society. In early youth, as in the 
primary years of life, these impressions are deep 
and often resist the power of reason. We are assur- 
ed that people who have signalised themselves, in 
the most melancholy manner, at the bloody epoch of 
our revolution, revenged their school affronts while 
boursierst^ in great Parisian colleges, because des- 
serts were granted only to boarders paying for them ; 
and that the mere sight of fruit, given to the son of a 
nobleman, whose exercise or translation they have 
written, to save him from the most shameful punish- 
ment, kindled in their hearts the first sentiments of a 
hatred which the injustice of the world increased, 
and carried to the most criminal excess. 

However this may be,— without fear of being de- 
ceived, parents may consult and listen to the children 
themselves, on the article of food. They are sin- 
cere, when they live united ; their judgments are 
equitable, and they are willing to do justice to 
schools, where they are well treated. Parents should 
not therefore require a preference for their children ; 
but on this important article should complain loudly 
for all ; their complaints then become more praise- 
worthy and generous, and impose a more salutary 
fear on the masters. 

It is a blameable and dangerous custom to give 
children money to spend in eatables. The choice of 
provisions bought by servants, who think only of 
how they can rob the scholars, is always bad ; and 
these illicit repasts are also made at irregular and in- 
jurious hours. Schools will always be badly or- 

• Scholars that have pensions in colleges — or sei'vitors, 

y 



242 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

gan'ised while such an abuse exists ; it introduces 
gluttony and fraud. 

If the health of a child requires a particular break- 
fast, let the mistress of the house be charged by the 
parents to procure it, and let her give it openly, as 
following the order of a physician. A jelly, a cup 
of chocolate, or a piece of fowl, will not then excite 
more jealousy than a basin of barley water or asses 
milk. If the child of a nobleman is endowed with a 
strong constitution, we should be cautious of con- 
senting to procure it these delicacies ; if the child 
whose parents have only a small fortune, is in a state 
of health which requires cares of this nature, let 
them be furnished at the expense of the school. To 
organise all which is capable of abuse, is the means 
of making it disappear. 

The expenses of great establishments for educa- 
tion are considerable j the profit which estimable 
masters derive from it is very small ; cares main- 
tained for a great number of years, end in the at- 
tainment only of a moderate fortune. 

SECT. III. 

Religion, morality, instruction, accomplishments, 

and assiduous watchfulness, reiterated counsels on 
all which relates to the character, studies and beha- 
viour of pupils, compose the cares which should in- 
cessantly occupy a good schoolmistress. 

A regulation is not difficult to compose ; the dif- 
ficulty is, to make it attended to, and, above all, to 
maintain it. The great guiding rule of mistresses 
ought to be the maintenance of all that ensures the 
execution of a difficult system, which bends them 
selves as well as their pupils, and of which experi- 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 243 

ence alone, and their own sound discernment, may 
successively demonstrate the utility. Frequent in- 
spections, increasing attentions, and an indefatigable 
perseverance, are remedies which should be opposed 
to the inevitable inconvenience of relaxed attention. 
The stronger the organisation, the easier the execu- 
tion of a regulation becomes. 

The writer of these remarks has undergone all the 
experience which successively suggests the variety 
of discipline indispensable in large assemblages of 
children. Twenty-five pupils formed the school 
which she established at Saint-Germain ; three 
months after, she had fifty ; at the end of the year 
she collected a hundred ; and concluded, by having 
to direct the education of three hundred girls. At 
her entrance into a new career, her zeal was unassisted 
by experience. An unforeseen incideiic prescrlbci! 
to her the necessity of making her pupils enter or re- 
tire from the different pursuits in which they were 
united, agreeably to an arrangement made, to pre- 
vent the least confusion. At the termination of a 
repast, some dancing dogs were admitted into the 
court of the house ; the desire of seeing the childish 
spectacle made them crowd towards the door ; a 
young pupil fell ; the vivacity of youth prevented 
them from noticing her ; several passed over her, 
and wounded her grievously. From this moment 
they walked two by two, and in time. At their en- 
trance into chapel, the dining-room, and other places 
of assembling, the scholars curtseyed at coming in 
and going out. These reverences were not only of 
use in calming their impetuosity, but contributed to 
the uprightness and good carriage of the body. We 
obviate many dangerous consequences by preventing 



-44 THOUGHTS ON ZDUCATION, 

^aces in the house ; let them be reserved for garden 
musements. There prisoners base, and the ambi- 
:on of first reaching a goal, are exercises as salutan,' 

as useful to the development of youth, and as suitable 

to young girls as to boys. 

The sound of the bell equally calls mistresses and 

•pupils to their duties. This bell, which regulates 
sing, dressing, prayer, and the class entrance, is one 

of the great advantages of public education j it sub- 

'ects to the empire of necessity : and it is much 
r have learnt how to be commanded. This method 
..ves all time lost in irregular preparations for pas- 
:Dg from one duty to another, which should be 
voided as much as possible. The bell, the hammer 
nd the rattle, have important parts to play in public 
iucation. That which saves words to the masters, 

.— ,w«— — ri — ^' •«"**/ ^* 2 

malice, and preserves more dignity to professors. In 
free schools of the people, where the numbrr of mas- 
ters is not proportioned to that of the scholars, the 
•others of the Christian doctrine make use of a te- 
- graphic instrument, which transmits various gene- 
?J orders. In a more extensive instruction, the 
masters must speak but merely to teach ; the rest is 
under the government of discipline. 

The bell for rising should sound twice, at five mi- 
.vjtes interval. This bell should ring three times in 
;he evening ; on entering the dormitory, undressing, 
and five minutes after they are in bed. Evening 
prayer should take place in the chapel, or in the re- 
spective classes. The overseer of each bed-room 
should have her bed elevated several feet, and placed 
so that she can see all the beds of the schohirs. In 
large establishments, it is well to make a servant 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 245 

sleep near each bed-room in case of accident, to be 
ready to give assistance in the night. 

I insist, that a dormitory, to be well regulated, and 
to obtain order and silence, should not contain more 
than from five-and-twenty to thirty beds. If the el- 
der pupils are together in chambers, let the number 
of beds always be uneven, that a teacher may sleep 
near them. 

The hour of rising, from the 1st of April to the 
1st of October, should be fixed at six ; from the 1st 
of October to the 1st of April, at seven. Why make 
girls rise with the light ? the day fully employed is 
sufficient for all studies. To force young people to 
follow customs which are not observed in the world, 
is to give them naturally a pretence for disengaging 
themselves from it sooner. In abusing an useful 
habit, we may fall into the opposite extreme. 

Every pupil ought to have her number on all 
things destined for her use ; not only her linen should 
bear the first letters of her name, and her number^ 
but every thing belonging to her bed should be mark- 
ed with her name at full length. Let this name, 
written on a ribbon, be pasted on every article com- 
posing her dress, in the crown of her hat, her gloves, 
&c. &c. We should accustom girls never to use 
any things but their own. We too often see women, 
very indifferent to this delicacy, permit themselves 
to borrow and make use of the apparel of others | 
and we should prevent youth from contracting even 
the least blameable habits. 

In boarding-schools, the linen is generally chang- 
ed on Friday or Saturday evenings. The person 
charged with the care of it should place on the bed 
of each pupil the linen intended for her. This iincB 

y2 



246 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, 

should be confined by a stout strap of white tape, on 
vhich the name and number of each scholar is 
marked. A buckle of steel is attached to this strap, 
which afterwards confines all the soiled linen, in its 
turn ; and a minute is then sufficient for a servant, 
famished with a basket, to remove, without confound- 
ing it. A similar buckled strap should be given to 
rach pupil to contain her towel, comb, brushes, &c. 

Attentions to propriety of person cannot be too 
multiplied. We should not allow the hair to grow 
until after the twelfth year. In France, girls do not 
generally attain any rank in society until their 
eighteenth year ; and hair preserved with care for 
six years, has then become its proper length j cut re- 
gularly until the age of twelve; the roots become 
stronger, and it is not so subject to come off on the 
slightest attack of fever. In schools, we have some- 
times great difficulty in prevailing on a mother to sa- 
crifice a fine head of hair, cherished from the cradle, 
but enlightened on a demonstrated fact ; they at last 
consent, and propriety, on a most essential point, is 
secured by this sacrifice. 

The face, neck, hands, and feet should be paid the 
greatest attention to. To a dormitory, of from 
nve-and- twenty to thirty beds, there should be six 
foot pans, and every morning the feet of six chil- 
dren, according to their numbers, should be washed, 
which secures them a foot bath ever)- five days, llie 
hands and teeth should be washed every morning, 
the face and neck in the evening, before retiring to 
rest. The sudden impression of the air on the face 
which has just been washed, is unfavourable to tbc 
ikin. 

After rising, prayer should be said in common. 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, 247 

the epistle and gospel read aloud ; as to the class 
which can only spell or read with difficulty, one of 
the elder class should be appointed every week to 
perform this duty. 

The class should be entered at ten o'clock ; writ- 
ing, grammar, lessons in history and geography, oc- 
cupy them until one o'clock ; drawing from one to 
three ; dinner takes place at th;!t hour, and an hour 
of recreation follows it. In the dining-room a scholar 
should mount a pulpit, and repeat grace, and the 
customary prayers ; a blow from a hammer, struck 
by the overseer, makes all sit down, and prescribes 
silence j dinner eaten, the pupil in the pulpit reads 
the grace ; the reader is chosen from a number of 
elder girls, made to attend to the service of the tables 
and distribute the bread ; they should be served after 
the others. Grace said, the pupils retire class by 
class, at a signal which is given to them ; they cur- 
tesy at the door, and should not quit their regular 
walk until they reach the garden or their class. 

Silence only can guarantee the means of teaching 
many children together. A practice of the boarding- 
schools of Geneva, which are generally esteemed^ 
assists much to obtain silence in class and the refec- 
tory. Mistresses should be furnished with a wooden 
ruler, which they give to the first who articulates a 
single word ; but she who receives it, has in her turn 
the right of giving it to the next who disturbs order« 
Recreation should occupy an hour ; the evening 
should be employed in sewing, or in lessons of music, 
Thursday the employment of the classes is suspend- 
ed ; mstructions in accomplishments? rtrading and 
sewing occupy this day j the recreations of which 
should be longer« 



248 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATlOiN. 

Discipliae should increase in proportion to the 
number of scholars ; nothing ought to be neglected ; 
the eye of the mistress should penetrate every where, 
that regularity may be observed in the slightest af- 
fairs. 

Emulation forms the strength of public education ; 
it there prevails in young minds, directs them to- 
wards that which is right, and communicates no 
stain to the generous sentiments of the heart and 
soul ; there alone rivalry produces not jealousy, we 
learn to rejoice in the happiness and glory of others, 
and friendship redoubles our enjoyments. 

Children incapable of being excited by emulation, 
learn that rewards are the fruit of labour ; knowing 
that they have done nothing to obtain it, they judge 
themselves, and if their hearts have not experienced 
generous emotions, it is seldom they are tainted with 
the odious sentiment of envy. 

Female boarding-schools have existed in England 
since the reform of monasteries. They have set me 
the example of establishing, every year, before the 
holidays, an inspection made in the presence of the 
parents of my pupils, and such friends as they choose 
to bring with them. Books were the prizes given 
for all works and accomplishments, dancing excepted. 
Dancing appeared to me useful, for the ease, grace, 
and dignity that it gives to the carriage, but I never 
made its advantages consist in a perfection quite in- 
compatible with the principles of a wise education. 
The pupil who best made a shirt, was rewardt=d like 
her who made the best drawing, or replied with the 
greatest correctness to the questions of the masters 
on history and geography. The study of literature 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 249 

was confined to the knowledge of different kinds, in 
which they exercised poetry and eloquence. 

This assemblage, of more than a hundred young 
girls, the beauty of some, and the interest which 
they inspired in the midst of a quantity of works pro- 
duced by their hands, and proving the useful employ- 
ment of their time, formed almost too seducing a 
sight. The inspections in my establishment termi- 
nated by a concert, never by a ball. 

A great number of girls' boarding-schools being 
established in Paris, this competition excited rival- 
ries, which, indeed, in some of these houses violated 
the laws of good taste and good manners. They 
raised stages, and crowned the pupils to the sound of 
trumpets, instead of recompensing with the simple 
gift of a book. Inspections, terminated by theatrical 
representations, ballets were introduced, and inno- 
cence appeared in the costume of opera dancers. In 
the provinces this v,'as carried istill firrther ; and to 
procure a name, mistresses of schools boasted of 
salles de spectacle. The pages of journals were filled 
with accounts of the inspections of girls' schools, 
and all the cares which I took to preserve my estab- 
lishment of Saint-Germain, from this publicity, were 
ineffectual. 

In 1807 government forbade this custom ; it did 
well. For it had degenerated into abuse, and in es- 
tablishments where decorum was respected, the spec- 
tators of these touching scenes were not worthy to 
be so, since they mistook the sentiments which ani* 
mated young hearts filled with innocence. 

The regulation of the imperial house of Ecouen, 
established the privacy of ancient convents. The 
princess protectress, and the high chancellor of the 



250 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

Legion of Honour could alone assist at the inspec- 
tions, as judges of the progress of the pupils. They 
gave no prize, the ambition of passing from an infe- 
rior class to one more elevated ; the view of a pile of 
sashes of different colours ready to be distributed, 
were alone sufficient to excite their zeal, and make 
all hearts palpitate. These examinations took place 
four times a year, and the hope of advancement was 
incessantly cherished. An engraven card, orna- 
mented vi^ith a vignette, representing all the attributes 
of study and labour, from the spindle to the pencil, 
was the pledge of content as to the success of their 
studies, and also carried contentment to the bosom 
of families. 

I was always pleased at seeing that privacy di- 
minishes nothing of the most praiseworthy emula- 
tion ; and that on judgment days the scholars expe- 
rience the same emotions in the cloistered interior 
of Ecouen, as* if their parents and friends were wit- 
nesses to their triumph. To incline to the right way, 
the happy purity of this age has no occasion for the 
approval and suffrages of the world ; youth merits 
the honour of dispensing with it as a judge. It was 
there that I learned still more the power of a gene- 
rous emulation. I have, however, met with syste- 
matic people much opposed to these means ; and we 
may, and ought to suppress them in private educa- 
tion, where there is no concurrence, and where the 
satisfaction of their parents should be the children's 
only recompense. But in public education, emula- 
tion is as necessary to the success of youth, as is the 
influence of the sun to the productions of the earth. 

It would be very wrong in schools to recompense 
only superiority of instruction and talent. The most 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION?. 251 

flattering and eminent reward should be reserved for 
qualities which compose the social virtues. 

Submission, mildness, order, propriety, maternal 
attentions from the eldest pupils towards their young- 
est companions, politeness and regard to their teach- 
ers, and kindness to servants, composed the whole of 
the good qualities required in my establishment of 
Saint-Germain, to obtain the prize given to good 
character. This prize was an artificial rose, worn on 
Sundays and holidays, by the pupil who obtained it. 
The number of votes which become necessary to pre- 
vent this public homage, rendered to goodness and 
sweetness, from being granted unjustly, appeared to 
me to be as in the world the result of a general and 
perfectly free opinion. I established a scrutiny to 
obtain it. Four vases were placed on a table in the 
midst of my eldest class ; the names of four candi- 
dates, chosen from each class by the overseers and 
teachers, were written on the vases j the ladies and 
scholars who had already obtained the prize, brought 
their votes, the directress had only the right of 
choosing among the candidates namedr A servant 
belonging to the children traversed the room, shewing 
her white favour, and saying, " This is for her who 
is good to those who serve her, who chides nobody, 
and knows how to return thanks." 

During the eight first years of the establishment 
of this prize, it produced the happiest results in my 
classes. This reward was given every three mouths. 
The day after, I invited the former successful can- 
didates, and the five new ones to a private breakfast. 
When a pupil who entered the house very young 
passed through the various classes, and obtained the 
rose in all, the last was given to her in a porcelain 



252 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATIOX. 

vase. The only ornament of this vase was the date 
of the day on which she received it, written in letters 
of gold. 

No person was invited on the days on which I 
gave the rose. Bat finally, parents became so anx- 
ious for their daughters to obtain it before they left 
school, that for the two or three last years, this ho- 
liday became a day of grief, excitement mingled with 
it ; at each nomination of the successful candidates, 
tears and sobs were heard on all sides j they wept 
at not having the desired majority. Friends united 
their tears to the weeping and sobbing of the chil- 
dren, and in one of these melancholy scenes, I had 
the grief of seeing a young girl of sixteen faint away 
on learning that she had lost the prize, and remain 
thirty hours in the most alarming lethargy. 

I felt that I must suppress, in this prize, a quality 
which acted too highly on young hearts. In large as- 
semblages, all which excites nervous emotions is 
dangerous ; an involuntary imitation renders them 
contagious. At this time I was appointed to super- 
intend the Imperial House of Ecouen, and I was 
careful not to transport thither my scrutiny and roses. 
Pupils \^ho distinguished themselves by the same 
union of good qualities, were simply named by the 
ladies of twelve classes, and the reward, granted 
twice a-year, was the plantation of a tree in the parkj 
an inscription attached to each of these trees bore 
the name of her who planted it, and the date of the 
day on which she obtained that honour. 

The greatest punishment to a pupil at Ecouen, was 
the loss of her sash. The founder of this establish- 
ment ordered that the scholar who should be guilty 
of a serious wrong, should be thus degraded in the 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 2jo 

middle of the court-yard, in the presence of all the 
house. One only time I had to pronounce this pu- 
nishment. The three hundred scholars, fifty ladies, 
and the servants, formed a square in the interior 
court of this fine gothic building ; the pupil was con- 
ducted to the place in which the cross of the Legion 
of Honour is drawn in pavement of black marble. I 
arrived, and took off her sash ; I felt that she re- 
quired support; her legs trembled, and she f'ainted 
in my arms. 1 suppressed the ceremony which ren- 
dered this punishment so grievous, — as I modified 
the prize granted to character which had a too great 
value attached to it. The eyes of spectators, when 
there is a great number, possess an incalculable pow- 
er. I have quoted these instances, to shew how the 
wisdom of the instructress should manage the sensi- 
bility of early age. They should be neither exalted 
by reward, nor too much humbled by punishments. 

The mosi general punishment at Saint-Germain, 
as at Ecouen, was that of dining apart at a separate 
table, which was called the wooden table, solely be- 
cause it had no cloth. I never saw so simple a de- 
nomination produce so great an effect. The scholar 
punished, was served like the others, but she ate not, 
and passed her dinner-time in tears. A ticket, 
placed in a frame, indicated the fault which merited 
this punishment. They were not condemned to it, 
unless they had received twelve bad tickets in the 
course of a month. Each bad ticket was composed 
of twelve bad points. Good tickets led to advahcc'- 
ment on the card of satisfaction. To put down faith- 
fully the good and bad points, the teachers possessed 
a little book, which they were never without. One 
good point effaced two bad. The ladies were charg- 
Z 



254 THOUGHTS OX EDUCATION. 

ed to shew pupils their situation on the book twice 
a-week. The first few days were always terribly 
overcharged with bad points. Their eyes then 
opened, and the following were retrieved by good 
ones. The book taken out of the bag, and the 
pencil prepared, produced as much impression as the 
sight of the ancient ferula or hammer. For twenty 
years I made use of this simple means to govern my 
classes. In continually offering youth the means of 
repairing their errors, we ar^ certain of inspiring 
them with generous intention. I must observe, that 
it requires an incessant attention and watchfulness, 
to cause so simple a routine to be executed. Almost 
all mistresses would rather chide and exclaim ; but 
I found that silence and the sight of the book alone, 
were of more effect than words. 

Every week the scholars w^ere placed according to 
to the extent of their knowledge of grammar. The 
four who remained constantly at the head of their 
study-table for three months, at the first examina- 
tion were certain of being passed into a superior class. 
Th^re are few subjects on which a certain advance- 
ment excites not a great emulation. I have, not- 
withstanding, seen several remain for two successive 
years in the lowest place in their class, without mak- 
ing the slightest efforts to advance from it; I left 
them invariably to themselves, but I never abandon- 
ed them. 

Rewards are due to pupils who distinguish them- 
selves ; friendly counsels, advice on the means of 
extricaiing themsflves from a shameful sit«Rtion, 
should be perscveringly given to timid, idle and fri- 
volous children, in whom a tardy development often 
leads to unexpected reflection. 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, SJjf 

1 have seen in my classes several changes, so un- 
expected and complete, that they appeared almost 
miraculous. But these changes seem less surpri- 
sing in the eyes of persons used to distinguish in 
children variety of dispositions and characters. A 
young girl remained fur three years in the lowest 
place in her class. Her carelessness was remarked in all 
her actions; she was always illcombed, and ill dressed, 
and tookherdancinglessons regularly without any one 
perceiving that she derived the slightest advantage 
from them. On the day on which she completed her 
fourteenth year, this girl entered the breakfast- roon\ 
very carefully dressed, exhibiting a different carriage, 
and an entirely novel expression in her countenance 
A few days afterwards, I understood that her atten- 
tion to her lessons was unremitting, that there was 
not a word of reproach to her on her conduct. Ac 
the end of a month, she was raised three places, and 
in less than a year, she was ranked with honour 
among the most advanced pupils. Propriety, good 
behaviour, and decorum, were all maintained with- 
out the slightest return to bad and long contracted 
habits. I consulted several physicians on so sudden 
a change ; they attributed it to a more rapid circu- 
lation of the blood, caused by the development of 
this age, and to the salutary impression on her mind, 
which the idea that she had entered her fifteenth 
year had made. 

As long as I live, I shall preserve the touching 
and melancholy recollection of a charming girl, whom 
I brought up from the age of eight years. Perfectly 
intelligent, but slow — at the age of eleven she spelt 
as at four. I took particular pains with her reading 
lesson ; I chose interesting books ; her heart was 



256 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

touched J but even in wetting the pages of Paul and 
Virginia with her tears, she spelt syllable by syllable. 
I continued her education, and the studies of gram- 
mar, writing, elocution and music. I made her re- 
cite all the fine scenes of Racine, and no longer made 
her read aloud. Her progress was satisfactory in 
all the branches of her education. Finally, at the 
end of two years, I ordered her to mount the pulpit, 
lo read during dinner. She took the book, and at- 
tracted general attention by the correctness of her 
reading ; nobody ever recited the part of Esther with 
more noble, touching, and varied expression : and 
throughout her life, unfortunately too short, the just- 
ness of an enlightened spirit, joined to a most pious 
and elevated soul, placed her among the number of 
women to whom socitty rejoices to render a public 
and general homage. What is this barrier raised by 
a fearful imagination ! Others will examine and de- 
clare, but this is certain, that it rather requires to be 
gently turned, than forcibly leaped over. 

In public education, the days should be occupied 
by an uninterrupted course of duties and amuse- 
ments. Practice the art of introducing powerful in- 
citements to emulation ; in pleasures, as in labour, 
let all amusements serve to the development of the 
mind, as to that of the body. Abandon not the choice 
of games to the will of children j they will introduce 
a license with which they would be quickly fatigued; 
but let the appearance of liberty be maintained ; 
pleasure exists not without it. Propose a new game; 
choose and teach innocent pastimes : bring the remi- 
niscences of your youth to assist the amusements of 
childhood, as you give to its occupations the expe- 
rience of your studies. I will mention the methods 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 237 

which I employed, merely with a view of being use- 
ful to people who devote themselves to cares which 
have occupied me for more than twenty years. Let 
rewards be united to important duties, as to the most 
simple occupations. 

In religious ceremonies, pupils with whom the 
music masters were satisfied, were chosen to sing the 
anthem, or at great solemnities, to execute motetti 
or chorusses. The altar of my chapel at Saint-Ger- 
main was without the balustrades. Among the scho- 
lars who prepared to make their first communion, the 
chaplain chose those who best answered the Cathe- 
chism, to hold the cloth on communion days j the 
youngest possessors of the rose presented the conse- 
crated bread at the ceremony of the dedication of 
my chapel. Those who had obtained good tickets 
were the only ones selected to go first in the pro- 
cession, and strew flowers on the path of the Holy 
Sacrament, on the festival of Corpus Christi. To 
grant these honourable functions to pupils distin- 
guished for their good conduct, is to unite, in the 
eyes of all, religious duties to social virtues. 

On Thursday I had always a concert ; children 
who could execute the most trifling piece on the pi- 
ano-forte were listened to with as much interest as 
the clever scholar, who rapidly ran over the keys. 
The reward of both was f qually six good points, re= 
gistercd in the bo<ik of the music mistresses ; among 
whom, as among their pupils, these inspections ex- 
cited an emulation, which quickly produced me great 
success in this part of education. 

Seats placed in a particular order, and two more 
lamps lighted in a class — and behold a fete for happy 
youth 1 On Sunday they anced to the piano -, this 

2)2 " i 



258 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

instrument has now become the habitual orchestra ia 

friendly parties. Br causing the music and dancing 
to be well executed, this amusement usefully con- 
firmed the lessons in both these accomplishments. 

In winter, at Saint-Germain, when snow and ice 
prevented the scholars from walking, and out of door 
amusements, I passed the hours of recreation, in 
making them repeat the tragedy of Esther. In like 
manner, I made them learn some of the comedies of 
madame de Genlis, in French, English, or Italian ; 
her theatre having been translated into both these 
latter languages. The exact pronunciation of French 
is obtained by reciting verse ; and nothing familiar- 
ises us with the use of foreign languages so much as 
repeating dialogues, and dramatic scenes in them. 

The reward of these exercises, at once useful and 
amusing:, svas a representation of Esther. It alwavs 
took place on Monday or Shrove Tuesday, and was 
repeated instead of the balls and amusements of the 
Carnival. This chef d'ceuvre of Racine, composed 
for the royal house of St. Cyr, was represented by 
pupils for three successive winters. Racine has so 
perfectly calculated the effect of his flowing and pom- 
pous lines, recued by pure and innocent voices j and 
the part of Esther was so well performed by the girl 
who undertook it, that this piece excited a species of 
interest which it necessarily loses in public theatres. 
These representations were spoken too much of; 
everv bodv wished to see them, and it was found bad 
to admit any other spectators than the inmates of 
ihe house. I thought to tread the most noble and 
honourable path, but I was misuken ; moralists of 
the present time are still more severe than those of 
the age of Louis XIV. Public opinion will be obey- 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 259 

td ; I suppressed these representations. I must, 
notwithstanding, mention a circumstance which was 
evident to me ; it is not a blameable vanity, much 
less a dangerous coquetry, which leads young girls 
to distinguish themselves in these exercises. 1 he 
idle, heavy, and inconsequential — all, in short, who 
were unfortunately too disposed to deliver them- 
selves up blindly to the vices of the world, never me- 
rited the honour of playing the parts of Esther, Elise, 
and Ahasutrus. In acknowledging that it is equally 
wise and right to suppress for ever all theatrical re- 
presentations in girl's schools, I owe this tribute to 
the virtues of youth, and it is with great satisfaction 
that 1 render them this homage. 

Di\ision into the classes is indispensable; a hun- 
dred pupils seem to indicate four classes of five-and- 
twenty. 

With regard to children from six to eight years 
of age, they are wholly occupied in the lowest class 
in learning to read, to form the first characters of 
writing, and in fables selected from those which are 
most calculated for childhood. It is evident, as J. J, 
Rousseau observes, that children comprehend imper- 
fectly the most simple things ; but in proportion as 
their understanding is formed, it recalls that which 
thev learnt in their most tender age. Samplers, 
hemming, and overcasiing, should occupy children. 
Reading lessons should be short and repeated. To . 
teach five-and-twenty children to read and write 
quickly, three mistresses are indispensable. 

Learning by heart is the surest way of knowing 
the dates and great events of history. 1 have tried 
argumentative reading, followed by extracts, made 



60 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION'. 

iv ihe pupilis. Those who pursued this method were 
not highly successful. 

To facts learnt by heart, we should unite the care 
of interrogating scholars on the things thus acquired, 
obliging them to construct phrases themselves, with- 
out confining them to those learnt, which they may 
abridge. What signifies it whether they repeat their 
lesion word for word, if they relate the facts clearly, 
and the precise date is fixed in their memory ? 

Extracts are geiierally dry and uninteresting, it is 
true ; yet they may be ot use ; but even then, they 
can only be compared to canvass mounted on a frame: 
rcaJiBg will give the facts more at length ; which 
in the same manner may be compared to the shaded 
silks which cover the surface of the canvass. 

We should keep ^wa\ from classes the numerous, 
we may say innumcrabic, works composed for the use 
of youth. Whatever mav be the purity of the mo- 
rals which they contaia, thev always coosist of little 
amusing stories, ar.d their charm prevents a taste for 
more serious reading. Books of history, and even 
Telemachus, will be seldom read by a young person 
who possesses Ade'e et Theodore^ and Les Feil/eii du 
Chateau^ &c. From this numerous libiary, composed 
for children in France, England and Germany, I se- 
lect onlv stories written frr the earliest age, abiidg- 
ments of natural histor\ , and travels. \Vhat I here 
submit is the resul^of experience. 

SECT. IV. 

It is necessary to bring up youth to the order and 
cares Vrhich prepare uomen for the duties of house- 
keeping. I have remarked that the most useful 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, 261 

thing is to give them the care of their drawers ; but 
you must request the honour of having a key. 

In France, little girls are scarcely able to assume 
these cares before the age of twelve or thirteen} to 
deliver them to them sooner, is to make them con- 
tract a habit of disorder, which ceases in time to an- 
noy them. Until thirteen, the arrangement of others 
should strike them, and give them a taste for order. 
Visits to the drawers of the elder scholars should be 
made in the most unexpected manner, that the mis- 
chievous foresight of youth may not guard it against 
surprises. — The chemises, frocks, and stockings of 
scholars, from six years old to twelve or thirteen, 
should be in the foul press, and their parcels of clean 
linen given to them twice a-week. Others, from 
thirteen to the time of their departure, should re- 
ceive it, count and set it down, collect it and tie it 
up ; and carry the keys of their drawers or trunks at 
the end of a little chain, attached to their girdle. 

To take care of your things early, and to keep 
them in order, is a valuable habit to contract ; and 
to this end we should deprive the richest children of 
the services of domestics. I know very well, that 
arrived at the moment of having such, they will dis- 
engage themselves from all those little duties which 
oftctn annoyed them, and for which they received 
chidings and reprimands ; but their liking for order 
will be established, they will not bear to see confu- 
sion among their clothes, which will be better sewed, 
&c. and we know, generally, that we can neither com- 
mand nor judge well, except in a situation, or in re- 
gard to an art, of which we have practised or studied 
the rules. Finally, if the inconstancy of fortune, ex- 
amples of which have been so multiplied in our days, 



262 THOUGHTS OX EDCCATIOX. 

precipitates a woman from the state of competeDce 
or riches, which she eDJoyed, into total destitution, — 
accustomed to order, economy, and propriety, she 
will never fall into the horrors of miserv : if onlv a 
humble pallet retnaios to her, it will be decent. 

For several years I have seen women whom for- 
tune had equally ill-treated ; and I have remarked 
the diflPtrence which in similar situations was estab- 
lished between the autcmatoos, accustomed from 
their infancy to be followed, served and dressed, 
and those whcm a better education secured from the 
disorders of poverty. 1 entered the hovel of a Creole, 
formerly pcssessirg four hundred thousand livres 
a-year, a lady of the old court, and who, perhaps, in 
her youth attracted all eyes in the gallery of Ver- 
sailles, by the richness of her apparel and jewels, 
and embalmed the air as she walked with the per- 
fcmes of which she made use. This female I saw, 
old, ugly, and dirtj, lodged in a little attic in Paris. 
Time had brough: on her age and wrinkles, and chese 
'defects were added to her ugliness, and the disgust 
which her person and habitatioo inspired. She was 
dressed in diny linen, and a gown full of slits ; her 
skin was discoloured with dirt, and her bed showed 
that she slept in it without taking the pains to make 
it. A table in the middle of the room ^ as covered 
with dishes and bottles, ^hich had remained from 
the precedmg da>'s dicner ; a cup, in which she was 
going to take her chocoljte,she had put on the table 
with htr false hair, combs, and a broken bottle which 
contained a Hale huile antique^ a laste for fashion 
never quitting women who consider neither their 
age cor their situation in the wcrid. I have also 
seen, with the delightful sentiment which unites with 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 263 

humanity, a woman ruined by the multiplied events 
of our revolution, resist the approaches of misery by 
honourable effort, abandon the eclat of luxury, but 
still observe the greatest propriety. Her chamber 
contained little furniture, and there was not a single 
article which possesst:d any value ; yet I remained 
with pleasure in her modest dwelling. A deal table, 
well kept, surpassed in appearance the woods of the 
Indies which have not been so carefully attended to ; 
white curtains, a well swept floor, sprinkled with 
fresh water — and some vases, containing flowers 
newly gathered, still perfumed the air which she 
breathed ; the work-basket, placed near the straw 
bed of the proprietor of this simple dwelling, united 
to present to all eyes the invaluable advantage of in- 
dustry and arrangement. Formerly rich, she now 
lived upon the labour of her hands ; and I have car- 
ried her very fine embroideries, which were quickly 
executed, and imagined, with that good taste which 
so much enhances the value of work. 1 hese two 
ictures which I have drawn, are most scrupulously 
true. 

The scholars of £cou..'n, arrived at the age in 
which we begin to value education, learned why I 
obliged them to keep their clothes in order, and 
to sweep their rooms; and far from reproaching 
me with the punishments which alSicted them in 
their youth, they thanked me for this salutary cus- 
tom. It mvist be confessed though the cares of a 
house cannot be acquired by practice in a school ; 
we can only give the theory, and form the judgment 
on thib important subject; the wisest instituiions can- 
not remedy this inconvenience. It is with her pa- 
rents alone, that a girl can give herself to the details 



264 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

necessary to be known, to keep a house ; and the 
sage foresight of a mother, in confiding cares to 
youth, is essentially to be consulted. 

Madame de Maintenon, in requiring the inmates 
of St, C.r to go in procession to fetch their dishes, 
and place them with their own hands on the table of 
the refectory, at the dinner hour, surely had it in 
view only to diminish the pride of young girls of 
distinction, educated in this superb establishment. 
To carry dishes ready cooked frum one place to ano- 
ther, can teach nothing in the administration of 
household affairs ; and how many things must be 
learnt, to keep even a poor, not to mention a compe- 
tent or opulent house ! 

To make their beds, sweep their chambers and 
class-rooms, even to do the service of the table, are, 
I think, things which we should oblige pupils to un- 
derstand ; their frocks and linen should also be all 
made by themselves. I have tried to teach my girls 
to wash and iron ; I even thought, one year, of 
making them pickle vegetables for winter, make pre- 
serves, &c. But I quickly repented of trusting 
muslins to their hot and ill managed irons, and 
fruits, sugar, &.c. to their inevitable desire to taste. 
I do not say that they cannot be employed in these 
sorts of things : I represent with truth that which I 
tried, and in which I failed of success. I think, 
that this kind of instruction cannot be given until 
eighteen. 

Accomplishments employ an immense time, and 
an education must be commenced very early for a 
pupil to possess them in an eminent degree, and at 
the same time have her mind, heart and memory 
cultivated. It is distressing to think, that whole 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 265 

hours must be perseveringly employed to teach per- 
forming perFecily on the harp and piano ; yet I can 
boast of obtaining great success with all scholars 
who remained with me eight or ten years. All who 
only remained two or three, departed with some ac- 
quirements, but they were still far from giving a just 
idea of the whole of my plan of education. Un- 
finished and finished educations, are in the propor- 
tion of forty five to fifty, which must necessarily 
prevent justice being done to an establishment in 
which parents, because they pay, generally shorten 
the time of instruction as much as they can. The 
institutions of princes are alone exempt from these 
serious inconveniences. 

SECT. V. 

We often meet with happy visionaries, who, in 
their dreams, pursuing the beau ideal vnoYoWy as well 
as physically, think that youth should be actuated 
by the love of right alone, and blame all rewards 
granted in classes ; surely their eyes are shut to the 
actions of men, — for emulation, the hope of rewards 
and honours, have never failed to lead them to great 
actions. 

Young ladies' boarding-schools in France, owing 
to the spirit of rivalry produced by a great competi- 
tion, have perhaps, carried the pomp of their exami- 
nations too far ; but the severe critics of our papers 
on this abuse are also carried too far ; it was easy to 
repress it by a single hint from the ministry charged 
with public instruction, and we should not have 
given to foreigners every false idea of these estab- 
lishments in which interest, combined with principle, 
generally causes religion and mt3rality to prevail. 
A a 



266 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

In every institution I had great difficulty in main- 
taining the moderate degree of my punishments. 
IVlusic mistresses, impatient at a sonata badly played, 
wo< Id often wish to apply my greatest punishment 
for th'fs offence, which was, to dine alone at a table 
without a cloth, that for this simple reason bore the 
imposing denomination of the -wooden table. I op- 
posed Eiyself to these desires, and acquired from 
some the character of a very weak instructress. 

Punishments in ancient French monasteries were 
so unreasonable, that a single example may give a 
just idea of them. I wish I could transmit the fol- 
lowing anecdote with the siin])le ^nd noble grace 
which the marechale de Beauvau imparted to every 
thing she related; it was from her I heard it. 

Educated at Port-Royal, the marechale de Beau- 
vau, daughter of the duke de Rohan Chabot, then 
six years of age, in this house found herself asso- 
ciated with the daughters of the most illustrious fami- 
lies in France. One of them was so unfortunate as 
to steal a piece of six francs j she was only five years 
old. Animated by the strong desire of eradicating 
for ever the principle of so base a vice, the nuns as- 
semt^led, and condemned the young boarder to be 
hanged. A pulley is fixed to the ceiling of an apart- 
ment, a basket is suspended to it by means of a cord 
and the little girl is soon drawn up to the ceiling j 
the nuns and scholars marched under the basket, 
singing a De Profundis ; the marechale de Beauvau 
passing in ber turn, raised her head, and cried to 
her com.panion, Es tu morte P Fas encore, replied 
the little unfortunate, through the reeds of her bas- 
ket. Thirty years after this ridiculous and blame- 
able scene, the marechale often met with the little 



THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 267 

girl that was hanged, then a duchess at the court of 
Versailles, and never failed to accost her with 
£s tu morte ? to have the pleasure of still hearing her 
artless Pas encore* 

How much mischief is there in such a punishment ! 
Who would believe that at that time the good Rol- 
lin was writing tales for the scholars of Port-Royal ? 
(these stories unfortunately are lost.) Assuredly he 
did not make the laws. 

If punishments are made use of, they should be 
appropriated carefully. A single child is gt^nerally 
punished enough for a whole class. The art of pu- 
nishing with judgment is wanting in preceptors-^ go- 
vernesses, and even passionate parents, who conclude 
by striking their children, and often by giving mis- 
chievous blows to those who are most dear to them.=^ 
Rewards given with perseverance and equity, gra- 
dually acquire the highest influence, and in schools 
honour tokes part in them. I have, however, learnt 
by experience, that when a recompense is so marked 
as to attract the notice of the zvorld^ it attains too 
great a value. I v/ould not, therefore, recommend 
as a reward of character, the use«of the rose, as given 
in my establishment every three rnctnths, by result 
of a oener. 1 scrutiny. 1 his reward of good charac- 
ter, or mildness, had too much effect ; girls of four- 
teen or fifteen, nc*^ obtaining it, and fearing to dis- 

* I have ali-e«f1y said, that ihej (preceptors) should never be actnate(i| 
by passirjii, teniper, or ca|)rice. This is ntnf of llie grentest ditccls in 
mait-.MS of education, bi-caiise it never t'scapes the ptnetrating eyes ot" 
scliol^rs, liut rituiers ail ihtr good q'.aliiies of the luasler aliuosi nuga- 
tory, while II tnkes away nearly all .authority from his ailviee and re- 
inoristiarice. What is still more vexatious, those- who are th-.- most 
passiOiiate, are the least awar- of it, and wdl oltf-n -receivi- with a baii 
gr;ice ihe cominuiiicalii-ns o: I'lose who warn ihcm of it ; which is, how- 
ever, pti haps thu kindest office a friend can do thorn. (lioilio, Traite 
des Etudes.) 



268 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 

please their parents, or be removed from the esta- 
blishment, melted into tears, or fainted ; and on the 

dav oi this distribution, laces were cut in all corners 
of my principal class-room. 

So great a sensation excited in young hearts ap- 
peared to me to be dangerous, and I became alarm- 
ed at it. 

It should at least be remarked, that I have shewn 
no undue enthusiasm in my institutions, I think 
that the prize of mildness and good character may 
be identified with that which is due to pre-eminence, 
since these qualities are found naturally united ; do- 
cility and equality of temper being the true steps 
which conduct youth to success. If we meet with 
a voung person of great sweetness of temper, but 
without capacity, we should discover some particu- 
lar manner of rewarding her. 



rivis. 






3 4 7 7 "> 



